


Deadly Jokes

by zouisprince



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Canon Divergence, Crimes & Criminals, Doctor Zayn, Enemies to Lovers, Freeform, M/M, Minor Violence, Villain Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:46:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4746977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zouisprince/pseuds/zouisprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a well-known criminal with a wicked sense of humor; Zayn is just the doctor who should be taking care of him, but Louis is too fascinating for his own good. (A highly-adapted Joker/Harley Quinn AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deadly Jokes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [So_Ginelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/So_Ginelle/gifts).



> This is written for the [Zouis Fic Exchange](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/zouisexchange/profile), based on two prompts by the lovely So_Ginelle. This is highly inspired by Joker/Harley Quinn's relationship (without the abusive crap), so there will be a lot of references to the Batman movies, comics and other medias. Louis' characterization is also based on the Joker from The Dark Knight.
> 
> Thank you so much to my angel [Tori](http://maybellemilk.tumblr.com/) for reading this over and fixing my mistakes.
> 
> (Also, I don't own anything related to One Direction or DC Comics.)

Zayn doesn't remember how long it's been since he got a proper night's sleep. Probably since Liam first asked for his help all those months ago, before his shifts at the Asylum stopped being his only priority. Since before he was given the chance of a lifetime, something he had been dreaming about for as long as he could remember. Since before he ended up lost in the underworld of Gotham City, chatting with people wearing clown masks aimlessly and trying to not look suspicious on his black hoodie and washed out jeans.

But now he feels like everything paid off. After months of getting almost no sleep and running through the dark alleys of Gotham City, looking for clues and solving riddles, he finally succeeded on his mission. Zayn feels oddly proud of himself as he walks through the hallways of the Arkham Asylum, being greeted by nothing but the loud echo of prisoners screaming and banging their fists against the walls of their cells. The profanities they're shouting don't affect Zayn though, not at all. Nothing can bring him down today.

Because today is the day he finally captured the Joker.

Truthfully, Zayn didn't do it all by himself. Liam, one of his best friends who's also known as Batman, had a major role in their mission, being the one to actually fight against the Joker himself and defeat him. Liam is smart as hell, there's no question in that, but nobody is better at analyzing people than Zayn is; he's a psychiatrist after all, and he deals with this kind of fucked up people on a daily basis. It was a match made in heaven.

But right now Zayn is completely knackered, with his clothes ripped and plastered against his body, wet and covered in mud after falling while being chased by no one other than the Joker himself. His knee is bruised and it will probably need a bandage later, and all he wants right now it's to get rid of these dirty clothes and burrow himself in bed. But his body is still buzzing with the aftershocks of the night, and he doesn't show a single trait of fatigue as he walks through the hallways of the Asylum, with Liam by his side and dozens of guards helping them to escort the Joker to his cell.

"Careful boys, you’ll crease the outfit." Joker says cheerfully, that maniac tone never leaving his voice.

Zayn’s eyes scan through the Joker’s features, coming to the quick conclusion that his creased jacket should be the smallest of his worries right now; he's as wet as Zayn, and the paint that usually covers his face is streaming down his neck, a mess of white, red and black. His green hair is plastered against his forehead, the hair dye mixing with the white creating a nice shade of baby green. He's all strapped to an up-right stretcher, with two guards wheeling him down the hall while other four follow them closely, guns pointed at him.

"Shut up clown," says one of the guards, voice shaking at the end in clear fear. His insecurities don't go unnoticed by the Joker, and Zayn grimaces at the huge grin stretching across his face.

"Where are they taking him?" Liam asks, his tone low enough for only Zayn to hear.

"We will take him to the Intensive Treatment Center," Zayn says. "We have a cell prepared for him, completely isolated from the other patients."

Liam barely nods at the piece of information, keeping his eyes fixed on the Joker who's now making fart noises and laughing hysterically at nothing in particular.

It doesn't matter how many years go by, Zayn will probably never get used to _this_ Liam. Well, Batman. He's dressed on his usual black outfit, his mask covering most of his face and the cape ruffling behind him. Zayn has known Liam's secret since they were on their first year of uni, but sometimes the fact that one of his best friends is the same person who fights criminals and has a secret identity still sounds surreal.

He will never get over the way Liam wears his underwear over his leggings, though. _Leggings_.

It's a long way down to the ITC. The Arkham Asylum is gigantic, almost like a maze of hallways turning and twisting in different directions, leading to identical doors and countless elevators. They walk through tunnels, scanners and heat cameras, everything to make sure that Joker's not bringing anything dangerous inside. They all stay quiet during the whole process, but the prisoner simply can't keep his mouth shut for a single moment, making snarky comments about absolutely everything and laughing at his own jokes, his sick grin never fading.

Maybe that's one of the reasons why Zayn has been fascinated about him ever since he first heard about the guy. It's amazing how he can look so confident of himself even in a situation like this, where he's all tied up and being carried to an underground prison.

It's almost like he knows he will get out of there eventually.

They finally reach the end of a long corridor where more guards and a doctor are waiting by big double doors. The doctor, a bald man who Zayn never seems to remember the name, steps aside and shakes Liam's hand like everybody usually do.

"Just got to check the prisoner, Dr. Malik." The doctor says, taking a careful step towards the Joker, who seems to be surprisingly quiet all of sudden.

Zayn nods at the doctor, who takes hesitant steps towards the Joker. "Patient seems to be in satisfactory condition. Looks like he suffered minor lacerations, probably in the last three hours. There seems to be-"

Before he can even finish his diagnosis he's interrupted by the Joker, who jolts forward as much as the straps allow him, moving to bite the doctor, causing the man to jump away from him with a loud shriek. The guards immediately point their guns at the Joker, but he seems unfazed. He just laughs at them instead, mouth wide open and his eyes almost jumping from his eye sockets.

"Need to take my temperature? I would be happy to drop my pants," the Joker says, moving his hands the best the cuffs allow him.

It takes all of Zayn's self-control to not laugh right there, earning an angry look from the doctor which might mean he didn’t succeed at hiding his smile. "He's all yours. Get him out of here."

The double doors open with a series of metallic clicks, leading them to a huge platform that takes them to the ITC. A woman's voice rings from above as they start to go down, startling Zayn slightly.

"Alert in Intensive Treatment, category nine patient in transit. Pacifications system active. Shoot to kill permissions granted."

The hair at the back of Zayn’s neck rises as the woman repeats the instructions over and over again. He has been working at the Asylum for a long time now but he never visited the lowest floors where they keep the most dangerous criminals; he usually treats his patients in his own office, a couple of floors above, and the uneasy feeling on his chest only grows as they keep going down.

"Look at all this new security. How's a guy supposed to break out of here?" the Joker's voice comes from behind him. Zayn throws a glance at him over his shoulder, and it's surprised to find the Joker's eyes fixed on him.

"You okay?" Liam asks from his side. Zayn takes his eyes away from the prisoner to look at Liam, his puppy eyes looking more like they belong to a fucking hawk right now.

"I'm fine." Zayn mumbles, pulling his jacket tighter around his thin frame.

Zayn knows Liam won't ask. Not now, when he's wearing his powerful costume and has to keep a serious attitude. But later he probably will, and Zayn won't be able to escape from him then. Stupid superhero.

The lowest floor of the Asylum is reserved for category nine prisoners only. It's a high security section, with cameras in every corner and guards with heavy guns standing by every door. The cells are empty though, mostly because they don't have patients who are dangerous enough to be down there, and also because they decided it would be better to keep Joker away from any contact with other patients. After all a great number of them are members of Joker's own gang.

They find Quincy Sharp, administrator of Arkham, standing by the door of Joker's cell. He greets Zayn and Liam with quick handshakes, his face going from sympathetic to angry when he lays his eyes on the Joker.

"Hey Sharpie, love what you've done with the place," Joker says, trapping his tongue between his teeth and letting a muffled laugh out.

"Lock him up," Mr. Sharp commands, stepping aside so the guards can shove Joker through the door.

"Is he really safe here?" Liam asks.

"I can assure you there's no safer place for him, Batman," Mr. Sharp says. "The door of his cell is password protected, there will be guards watching him twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and even if he escapes his cell there's no way he will be able to leave this building."

Zayn stops paying attention to their conversation and approaches Joker's cell, watching him through the glass walls. It's like a huge bubble in the center of an empty dark room with no windows. The glass feels cold under his palm, and for brief moment he wonders how a man is supposed to breathe under there.

He's so lost on his own thoughts that he doesn't even notice when the Joker throws his own body against the glass wall, making Zayn step back abruptly. The glass is thick enough to muffle Joker’s voice inside, but his mouth doesn't stop moving for a second on the other side. Zayn approaches the glass again when he realizes is safe, watching Joker press his own face against the other side of the glass, making dumb faces and licking the transparent surface. It's sickening.

"I want Dr. Malik to take care of Joker's psychic evaluation."

That's Liam's voice, and it's enough to break Zayn from his trance. He turns around with an incredulous look on his face, wide eyes fixed on his friend. "What?"

"You were of great help on this case," Liam explains, watching Joker who's now jumping around inside his cell. "You are probably the person who knows him the best, after me of course. I want you to examine him."

"B-But he's a category nine," Zayn says, his voice catching a little. "I only take care of patients from category one to four. I'm not qualified for this kind of job."

"I wouldn't trust anyone else," Liam answers, and his voice carries that tone Zayn knows very well, the one he only uses when he's a hundred percent sure about his decision. "You've been studying Joker and his team for ages in order to help me. You've been analyzing his behavior and actions and your skills were essential for this operation. You should do it, Dr. Malik."

Zayn would probably blush if all these compliments were coming from anyone but Liam. He still feels a little bit out of place though, confused even, because Liam can't be serious.

"You should listen to the man, Malik," Mr. Sharp says. "If he thinks you're well suited to handle the situation I can't do anything but agree."

"I don’t know," Zayn says, turning around to look back at Joker. This man is one of the most dangerous assassins in Gotham City. He was responsible for so many crimes, so many vile actions, not to mention his insane behavior. Zayn has been fascinated about him in a twisted and sick way from the moment he first heard of him, and he should be honored to be the one to _take care_ of Joker. "There must be someone else who can evaluate him, right?"

"I won't take no for an answer," Liam insists.

"Enough with this nonsense Malik, you will be taking care of him," Mr. Sharp says, and Zayn can't actually argue with his boss so he keeps his mouth shut. "We can handle the situation from here, Batman, thank you for your services."

"It is my job to keep Gotham safe from people like Joker," Liam says, and Zayn could literally roll his eyes at how lame he sounds. He shakes Mr. Sharp hand one more time and barely gives Zayn a nod before turning around with a ruffle of his cape and taking off as fast as he can.

Mr. Sharp watches him go until the doors fall shut behind him, sparing a quick glance at Zayn. "You should pay a visit to the hospital wing, Malik. That cut on your knee doesn't look good."

Zayn looks down at himself and finds his dirty jeans ripped right above his left knee, an angry bruise painting his pale skin with dried blood. He hasn’t acknowledged the cut until now, probably due the adrenaline rushing through him, but now he can feel a burning sting coming from his leg.

"That's fine, I’ll take care of it later."

"You should take the next few days off, too. This operation probably got the best of you," Mr. Sharp says, patting him on the shoulder lightly. "Good job, Malik."

It's hard to make the words come out, but he manages a simple smile to his boss, both of them walking away from Joker's cell together.  Zayn looks over his shoulder at Joker one last time before they go, and his stomach drops at the sight of him with his face pressed against the glass, staring right back at Zayn. The last thing he catches before the heavy doors close behind him is Joker waving at him, with a smile full of teeth flashing on his face.

Zayn is not intimidated, not at all. But he still curses Liam under his breath on his way home, his head filled with thoughts about Joker. He can't stop thinking about how he was able to catch one of the most feared villains in all Gotham, and how he will be alone in a room with him in a couple days.

His phone rings persistently on his pocket as he unlocks his front door, but he ignores it because he knows it’s Liam. He walks through his apartment instead, leaving a trail of dirty clothes behind him, not even sparing a single thought about his wounded knee before slipping between the covers on his bed, sleep taking over almost instantly.

Nightmares about dark alleys, killer clowns and an endless chorus of lunatic laughs ringing on his ears come to haunt him at night, but it's not like Zayn wasn't expecting them anyway.

 

\---

 

The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane is a facility located on the outskirts of Gotham City, where people who experience psychosis and are considered to be mentally ill or a danger to society are sent to be treated and eventually recover. Zayn was in his last year of uni getting a degree in psychology when he decided to apply for an internship at the Asylum, and right now, almost three years later, here he is. A proper doctor, with his own proper office and shit.

Zayn doesn’t regret his decisions at all, but it’s inevitable to not re-evaluate some of them as he waits for the guards to bring the Joker for their first session.

He had the whole weekend to get ready for this moment; he spent the past two days reading every article he collected about Joker through the years and watched some videos about him on Youtube. Even Liam popped by on Sunday afternoon, bringing a six pack of his favorite beer as some kind of apology.

"Just try to get inside of his head and unveil him layer by layer. You are the best person to do that Zayn, don't worry."

It's easy to tell people to don't worry when you walk around wearing a mask carrying multiple types of weapons on your belt, Zayn thinks.

Before he can worry about the matter at hand even further the door of his office's shoves open, startling him a little. There are two guards pushing Joker inside while other two stand by the door, big guns in hand pointing at the prisoner.

"Easy boys, I'm not used to this kind of manhandling outside of the bedroom," Joker says, making Zayn’s cheeks burn for some odd reason.

The Joker doesn't look good:  his face is still mostly covered in white paint but most of the red and black around his mouth and eyes have faded. The brown of his hair is showing more now, making him look like an unfinished work or art. The tip of Zayn's fingers itch with the urge to drawn him, a simple doodle with his favorite pen, but he can't. He has to keep his professional attitude.

The guards cuff Joker against the chair as tight as they can, yanking his wrists against the steel in what must be a painful way. Zayn can see the skin of his wrist turning an angry red, but Joker doesn't complain, not even once. He just keeps staring into space, his blue eyes fixed on the surface of Zayn's metal desk.

 _Staring into space, self-focused in some manner, probably having psychotic thoughts_ , Zayn thinks, making a mental note to write it down as soon as he can.

"That should do it, we will be just outside the door in case you need something, Dr. Malik," says one of the guards after they finish.

The room gets uncomfortably quiet once they leave. There's a clock ticking on the wall behind Zayn, and he keeps staring at the man sitting in front of him with concerned eyes. He hasn't moved yet, his eyes still glued on the desk, and for the first time since he started working as a psychiatrist he doesn't know what to do.

"Hum, I'm-"

"Nice office."

Joker is looking directly at Zayn now, blue eyes locked with his amber ones. Zayn can see he's lying, though: his office is boring and so not _Zayn_ , with grey walls and just a metal table, some chairs and a bookshelf partially empty. There's only one tiny window protected by metal bars to prevent accidents, and Zayn never puts portraits of his family or friends on his table because he's too scared of someone going after them. The only thing hanging on the wall is his diploma from university, which somehow makes the office even more boring.

"Uh, thanks," Zayn says. He breaks the eye contact quickly, opening his drawers and grabbing a notepad and his voice recorder. "Just so you know, this session will be recorded."

"Do your thing," Joker shrugs dismissively. There's a ghost of a smirk on his face, but Zayn tries to ignore it as he clicks the recorder on.

"Patient interview number one," Zayn starts, but he's soon interrupted by Joker's laugh, the laugh that has been visiting him on his nightmares for the past few days. The same laugh that chased him through the alleys of Gotham, like a wild animal desperate for their prey.

Zayn feels the hair at the back of his neck rising at the creepy sound, a cold feeling sliding through his spine. "W-What are you laughing about?"

"You know what they say, doctor... you never forget your first time," Joker says, his pink tongue poking out to lick at the remains of red scattered around his lips. "I'll try to make it memorable for you."

 _Inappropriate sense of humor_ , Zayn writes down quickly, his writing coming off as a scrawl from how much his hand is shaking.

"Tell me, why you do the things you do?" asks Zayn once he's finished writing, looking deep down into Joker's eyes.

That's one of the techniques he learned from the psychology school, actually. Asking straight forward questions and examining as each trait of the person's expression change while they try to come up with a lie. There are lots of reactions Zayn is used to, such as patients frowning, gaping and stuttering when they answer the question, and that's when he knows they're lying.

The Joker, on the other hand, doesn't react at all. He keeps staring at Zayn without batting an eye, his blue orbs looking like a motionless sea instead of the thunderstorm they usually are. "I don't know what you're talking about.”

That's also something Zayn is used to, patients pretending that they didn't do anything wrong. Zayn sighs briefly before fishing a random picture from Joker's folder, showing it at him.

"Perhaps this can fresh your memory up a little bit?"

It's a picture of the Joker himself, face carefully painted with white and black, his green hair stylized in an impressive quiff. He' taking a selfie, and Zayn must admit that he would look pretty good if it wasn't for the house on fire right behind him.

The Joker chuckles at the picture, shaking his head slightly. "That's one of my favorites, I must say."

"You posted it on Facebook," Zayn points out.

"Well, it did help you lot to find me," Joker says with a shrug, like it’s normal for him to post selfies of houses burning down all over Facebook. "And besides, I look pretty dashing, right?"

 _Cheeky, doesn't seem to show respect for authorities_ , Zayn writes down, putting the picture away. "Why?"

"Why do you think I do it?"

Zayn is not used to this kind of clap back. He feels slightly taken aback actually, and he gapes a little as his brain tries to work on a decent answer.

"Fame... notoriety... a desire to stand out of the crowd, maybe?" Zayn says, crossing his arms against his chest. "A wicked sense of humor."

The Joker gasps at him mockingly, and the uneasy feeling sitting on the pit of Zayn's stomach just grows as he watches the smirk stretching through the man's face, big enough to compete against the cat from Alice.

"You're good. How did you figure it out, doc? I've had doctors poking me around for years and no one was as astute, and if you don't mind my saying, beautiful as you."

Zayn was definitely not expecting the last bit. He feels his cheeks burning like hell and he's probably as red as he thought because the Joker starts to laugh at his reaction immediately.

 _Just try to get inside of his head and unveil him layer by layer._ Liam's words echo inside of his head, and he can't help but feel like The Joker is getting under his skin instead the other way around.

He clears his throat dismissively, the collar of his shirt suddenly feeling too tight around his neck. "So it's not your first time around here?"

"Nah, they brought me here on my early years," Joker says, a dreamy look on his face like he's reliving delightful memories. "They thought I was not that dangerous, mind you, so it wasn’t that hard to escape from this shit hole."

"That's interesting," Zayn says, writing some useless information on his notepad. "But you didn't answer my first question. Why you do the things you do?"

The question sends the Joker through the state of dreaming again, his face relaxing and his eyes falling to where Zayn has his hands resting on the table. The smile on his face is not big anymore, just a relaxed smirk instead. Zayn examines him closely, trying to get a glimpse of what he's thinking about or what he's experiencing, but there's nothing there. His eyes are as empty as his face, and he looks like an empty canvas rather than an unfinished piece of art.

"It's simple, doctor," the Joker finally says, raising his eyes to look at Zayn's face. "I do it just for fun."

A lot of things happen at the same time before Zayn can digest the information properly. The cuckoo from the clock behind Zayn's chair pops out, signaling that another hour has gone by while Joker jolts forward the best the handcuffs allow him, making Zayn jump back a little in surprise. The madman is laughing so hard and his mouth is so stretched open he would probably be able to swallow Zayn's fist if he tried. The sudden act sends Zayn's heart in a rampant beat, and before he can properly react the office door is being pushed open, the four guards coming inside in a rush and surrounding the Joker.

"Are you okay, doctor?" one of them ask as the others hold the Joker down.

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," Zayn says, feeling his heart beating like crazy on his throat. "I'm just- Yeah, I'm okay."

"We're taking you back to your cell, clown," the guard with the gun says, poking it against the Joker's cheek.

"See you next week, doctor," Joker laughs before they push him through the door, his eyes shining with mischievousness.

Zayn sits back once the door is finally closed, his head hanging backwards while he rubs his fingers against his closed eyelids. His heart is still beating like a drumming band, and he groans against his palm, completely frustrated. That wasn't supposed to happen, he shouldn't have let the Joker do that to him, plant questions inside his head and play with his emotions. That was supposed to be his job, and he failed.

When his hands stop shaking and his heart comes back to its original place on his chest, beating not so fast, Zayn grabs his pen and writes down the last thing he saw on the Joker's face before he was carried away.

 _Dangerous psychopath_.

 

\---

 

It's not unusual for Zayn to spend weeknights locked up on his apartment all by himself, mostly just eating, watching movies or playing videogames. His friends are always busy, just like himself, some of them producing records and others saving the town from giant lizards, and Zayn's not exactly a chatterbox, so he finds comfort in being alone just enjoying himself.

Tonight, however, he finds himself going through paper work.

He's currently lying on his couch, his living room looking like Liam's so called _Bat Cave_ , with the blinds drawn and TV playing some foreign movie on mute, his third cigarette perched between his lips. The nicotine does wonders to relax his muscles, and maybe that's the reason he's not asking himself why the hell he's reading the Joker's file on a Wednesday night.

Well, it's not like Zayn doesn't know everything about the Joker already. He has been intrigued by the villain since he first heard about him, when he was just a freshman at university, and he found something oddly fascinating about a man who looked like a clown raising hell all over Gotham. Maybe that's why Zayn's thoughts have been filled with nothing but the Joker in the past couple of days, or maybe because he's the most interesting patient he’s ever had since he started working at the Asylum.

Needless to say the sound of the doorbell going off is quite unexpected. Zayn never has visitors this late at night, and he doesn't recall any of his friends telling him about paying a visit.

"Coming," Zayn shouts, throwing the folder on the coffee table and shoving his almost finished cigarette in the ashtray. He turns the volume of the tv up, just to pass the impression that he's not as lonely as it seems.

The doorbell keeps buzzing until he reaches the front door, and when he finally manages to unlock it he's almost thrown to the side by a frantic Harry, all dressed up to the nines and holding two paper bags of takeaway.

"Sure, come in," Zayn says sarcastically, closing the door behind him and looking at Harry's back as he walks to the kitchen.

"Sorry, I was just on the neighborhood and I decided to pop by," Harry explains, fishing some plates from the cupboards. Zayn walks behind him and leans against the doorframe, watching as he fills the plates with some _Bojangles'._

"Harry?"

"Yes?" Harry asks aimlessly, his back still turned to Zayn.

"What are you doing here?"

The muscles of Harry's back tenses under his floral shirt, and Zayn can see him standing a little bit straighter. His friend sighs deeply and turns around, shoving his long hair away from his face revealing pink cheeks and big green eyes.

"He stood me up. Again." Harry says, and that's enough for Zayn to know what's going on.

"Oh. Well, in that case why don't you take these to the living room," Zayn suggests, grabbing their plates of food from the countertop and passing them to Harry. "And I’ll fetch us something to drink. How does that sound?"

Zayn has known Harry for a long time now to know the way he shrugs with his lips contracted in a thin line means that his suggestion doesn't sound as good as he hoped. Zayn pats him on the shoulder lightly, trying to give him some reassurance, and with that he walks away.

This is something he should be already used by now. Zayn and Harry have been friends for a long time now; they met on their first week of uni, both of them clicking immediately and even back then Harry would always come to him every time Liam canceled their plans. The two of them have been dating for as long as he can remember now, but it's always the same thing: they plan a date, shit happens, Liam cancels, Harry mopes. It's a vicious cycle, and somehow Zayn always gets caught up on it.

He grabs two ice teas from the fridge and walks towards the living room, where Harry is watching the news. Apparently they're doing a live coverage of Batman's current actions, and Zayn is quick to change the channel when he sits on the couch.

"Talk," Zayn says, passing him the ice tea.

"There's nothing to say. We planned this date for ages and he told me not even half an hour ago that he wouldn't be able to make it," Harry says, taking a large sip of his tea. "Imagine how stupid I looked sitting there for almost twenty minutes all by myself drinking water and eating breadsticks."

Zayn can't help but chuckle. "And who was this time? No, let me guess. Riddle?"

"Freeze," Harry says with an eye roll, stuffing his mouth with chicken nuggets. "It seems that he was trying to rob a bank and froze everyone who was inside."

"Well Haz, I'm sorry but he was right to go and save them," Zayn tells him, ignoring the way Harry chokes on his own food.

"What about me, Zayn? How long I will have to take this?" Harry asks, his drama queen side coming to surface. "It's always like this, and then when he finishes beating those guys he calls me to take care of his wounds. Literally."

"It's not like you didn't know where you were getting yourself into when you accepted his so romantic proposal," Zayn says mockingly, making Harry huff. "Now you have to accept the consequences."

"Oh, shut up."

In that moment Zayn's stomach decides to make a guttural noise, and he grabs his plate from the coffee table quickly. They eat in silence for a while, neither of them really paying attention to the documentary about lions. The silence is nice, though, but it's soon interrupted when Harry leans towards the coffee table.

"What is this?"

Zayn takes his eyes away from the tv quickly to look at the folder Harry is holding now. Joker's folder. He swallows all the chicken in his mouth harshly, making some tears pool on his eyes.

"O-Oh, that's nothing. Let me just take this way before you drop curry all over it and-"

But it's too late already. Harry has the folder open on his lap, browsing through the documents and pictures inside of it. "Is this about Joker?"

"Yeah, I was just taking a look before you came by." He's not lying, not really, but somehow it sounds like he is.

"And why were you doing that after what happened this week?" Harry asks, giving Zayn a pointed look. "I've heard people in the staff room talking about how the guy almost bit your head off."

"Well, people at the staff room exaggerate," Zayn says, grabbing the folder from Harry and placing it under one of the couch cushions.

"I don't know why you're doing it, honestly," Harry says after some time, placing his own plate on the coffee table. "When Liam told me that he named you for the job I almost kicked him in the balls. Sometimes I really don't know what goes through that big head of his."

"Why? Do you think I can't handle the job?" Zayn asks, his voice carrying some kind of passive-aggressive tone.

"No, of course not Zee. It's just... He's dangerous. Joker, I mean. I'm not comfortable with you being alone with him in a room, you know? It doesn't feel right."

Harry voice is pure concern, and Zayn knows that he genuinely cares about him. Harry is one of the most empathetic people he has ever met, but maybe he's overreacting a little bit. Yes, Zayn wasn't that sure of the whole situation when Liam named him to take care of the Joker but now that he went through their first session he knows he can do it. And the Joker probably thinks that he scared Zayn away with his little scene, and Zayn is decided to not let him win that easily.

"Don't worry Haz, I will be fine."

That's all he says before changing back to the news again, Harry's attention going from him to the tv spectacularly quick.

 

\---

 

The clouds are grey and heavy on the sky as Zayn rides the bus to the Asylum that morning, his buzzing forehead pressed against the cold glass in order to dissipate the headache he's been nursing since the night before. The ride from Zayn's apartment to work takes almost an hour every day, and he usually spends the time reading some book, going through his favorite websites on his phone or even sleeping. Not today, though.

As he looks through the foggy window, with the raindrops lightly patting against the glass, Zayn can't stop thinking about the Joker and how he will have to face him again today. Needless to say this is something he's not looking forward to.

Zayn has been thinking a lot about what Harry said. His head aches from worry, bits of conversation about how dangerous the Joker can be and how worried Harry is about him hammering against his brain. At the time he thought that Harry was overreacting, but that didn't stop the questions from popping on his head.

Once the bus finally drops him at the Asylum he makes a quick work of running to the entrance, pushing the hoodie of his jacket over his head and splashing water and mud everywhere. He mumbles profanities when he almost trips to the ground, and he spends the whole way to his office cursing himself for forgetting his umbrella at home.

All the thoughts about the situation vanish from his head when he opens the door of his office, his eyes immediately landing on the weirdest bouquet he has ever seen.

The flowers are from the most varied shades of green and red, standing out from the boring grey present in the whole room. Zayn closes the door behind him quickly, walking around his table in large steps and examining the flowers without touching them.

"What the hell?" he murmurs to himself.

There's a card hanging among the flowers, and Zayn does his best to fish it out without actually touching the flowers. It's seems like an impossible mission, but after much effort he finally succeeds. The card feels light and cold on his palm, one side just plain black, which makes Zayn frown, confused, but when he turns it around between his fingers he finds the image of a little clown, with red hair and a yellow jacket, holding a bouquet.

A joker card.

The smile of the clown printed on the card does nothing to help the uneasy feeling on his stomach, and the flood of questions rushing through his head is so big he even forgets to breathe for a couple of seconds. He feels sick, his fingers shaking uncontrollably and a thin layer of sweat forming above his upper lip. It doesn't help when the door behind him opens abruptly, making him jump on the spot.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, doctor." Zayn is relieved to see one of the guards poking his head inside of his office. "Just coming by to warn you we will be bringing Joker in a couple of minutes."

The unpleasant feeling on his stomach only grows, and Zayn can feel the eggs he had for breakfast making their way upward. "Hum, y-yeah, sure. Thanks for letting me know."

"Are you okay?" The guard asks, raising an eyebrow at him. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Zayn opens one of his drawers and fishes a pack of pills from inside, popping two in one go and taking large gulps from his water bottle. "I'm fine."

His tone is dismissive enough for the guard to just nod and walk away without making further questions. The relieved breathe that escapes from his lungs is completely involuntary, but his legs still feel a little bit wobbly from the perspective of having the Joker on his office in a couple of minutes. He shoves the card on his back pocket and runs to replace his wet leather jacket for a white doctor coat.

There's a sharp knock on the door not even five minutes later, and Zayn watches from his seat as the guards shove the Joker inside. It's been only a few days since he last saw him, but he does notice a lot of changes on his appearance: for instance, his purple jacket was replaced by a black tee and black pants. The white covering his face is almost completely gone by now, and the black from around his eyes look like dried tears across his cheeks. His hair is a mess of brown now, only tiny spots of green remaining, a soft fringe covering most part of his eyes, but the huge grin is still there, stretched across his face.

He looks tired, though. Wrecked, even.

"Thanks guys," Zayn says when they're finally done with locking the Joker to the chair.

"We’ll be right outside," one of them says, pressing the tip of their gun against Joker's cheek. "No funny business, clown."

Joker doesn't react to the implied threat, his eyes fixed on the flowers. There’s a wicked gleam mixed with the blue there, Zayn notices, and he waits until the door is safely closed to push the button of his recorder on.

"Care to tell me how these got in my office?" Zayn asks, pushing the flowers towards the Joker.

The question makes him raise his eyes to Zayn's face, a tiny smirk on his face. "Simple, really. I put them there," he says, raising one eyebrow at Zayn. "Why? Don't you like flowers?"

The truth is, Zayn was expecting a lie. He was expecting an answer in the lines of "I have no clue." or "Why would I know?" in that pretentiously sarcastic tone the Joker uses 99% of the time, like he's always telling a big inside joke. But instead he gets nothing but the blatant truth, his voice sounding open and sincere.

It's weird how that makes Zayn's nausea go away so quickly.

"Why?"

Joker lets an annoyed snort out. "Look, I felt pretty bad for scaring you like that last time. You're going to be _treating_ me for the next how-long months, so I have to be nice to you eh?"

"You're the Joker, you don't feel bad for scaring people," Zayn says, and he even feels ashamed for admitting that yes, he got scared. "And how did you even get in here? I'm the only one who has the keys."

"Don't worry doctor, I can teach you to use a lock pick if you want." Joker says, eyes rolling, amused.

Zayn leans back against his chair with a heavy sigh, rubbing both of his palms across his face. Flowers? Joker getting away from his cell? A lock pick? That's too much for even him to handle.

"I think the guards would be interested to know you've been out of your cell." Zayn finally says, not daring to look back at Joker.

He's answered with a short but genuine laugh. "If you really were going to tell, you would've already."

Zayn snaps his attention back at him, and he's greeted with a confident smirk.  "How do you know I haven't already...?"

"Because I wouldn't be here if you had," The Joker says. He leans forward as much as he can, his eyes softening a little as he scans through Zayn's features. "Y'know, love, I like you. I really do. It makes me think there's someone here I can relate to."

His voice is barely a whisper, and Zayn leans forward so he can hear it better. Joker stays silent for a moment, only his warm breath washing over Zayn's face, intoxicating his senses and making his glasses a little bit foggy.

"Someone who might like to hear my secrets."

Zayn gasps before he can hold himself, his eyes wide and fixed on the Joker's face. "Y-Yeah, I would. Go on."

Obviously Zayn was a fool if he thought that things would be that easy. The Joker leans back to his original position with a chuckle, looking at Zayn with a smug smile on his face.

"Not here, dear, too many ears and eyes," he says, motioning to the recorder on Zayn's table with his head. "But there's something I think I should tell you."

"What?" asks Zayn with trembling hands and mouth almost salivating for information.

"I like your hair."

The statement hits Zayn out of the blue, making his cheeks burn furiously right after. His tongue feels heavy on his mouth, and he stutters as he tries to come up with a proper answer but before he can do that the guards are coming inside his office again, making a quick work of uncuffing Joker from the chair.

"Your time is up, clown," one of them say, holding him tightly by the arm while other one points a gun right to his head.

"See you around, doctor," Joker says, flashing him a wink before the guards push him out of the room.

Zayn breathes out heavily when the door bangs closed. He doesn't even think before fishing his phone from his bag, opening the front camera and looking at himself on the screen, his cheeks still tinted red and his raven hair styled in an elegant quiff, a blond streak high and proud right in the front.

"Fuck," he mumbles to himself, laying his phone down and burying his fingers on his own hair, eyes fixed on the bouquet of flowers lying forgotten on his table.

It's only then that Zayn realizes the Joker will probably be the death of him.

 

\---

 

From all the things Zayn dislikes about his job, his crazy schedule is possibly the worst of them all.

The night shift is possibly the worst thing they ever came up with. Mostly because the patients are sleeping at night, for fuck's sake, so there's no point of Zayn being there at eleven at night when he's a psychologist who takes care of _people_. Instead he just spends most of this time writing some reports he should’ve worked earlier but was too lazy for.

He's debating on whether he should take his snack break now or later when his phone buzzes on his pocket. He grabs it quickly, happy to have an excuse to take his attention away from work, but his excitement vanishes right away when he sees a picture of Harry and Liam on the screen, their mouths hanging open from laughter, both of them looking at the camera with crinkled eyes.

_we wish you were here, zaynie! harry baked an amazing cake for us, i will make sure to save you some! x_

Of fucking course. From all the nights he could have been working he happens to work on the exact same night Liam's free. Zayn pockets his phone with a huff, deciding that yes, he should have a midnight snack right now and maybe drown his sorrows in food instead of working on this report about a guy who likes to pretend people are his personal dolls. Pathetic.

A soft knock comes from the door while Zayn is bent down with his head almost buried inside his bag, looking for the two sandwiches he's sure he packed earlier that afternoon.

"Come in," he says, too distracted searching for his food to even look up.

The sandwiches are hidden under the hoodie he shoved inside his bag when he arrived at work, and he finally grabs them with a grunt of relief. There's a small bag of Lays in there too, and he smiles down at his little banquet before turning around to greet the newcomer.

"Hey, doctor."

Zayn's features harden when his eyes fall on none other than Joker, standing there in the shadows of his office. He can't see much, the moonlight not quite enough to illuminate the room and his table lamp too weak to even create a proper shadow on the opposite wall. Still, Zayn is sure he has his usual smirk on his face, and his body moves quickly on pure reflex, grabbing the first pointed thing on sight and jumping from his chair.

"Hey, I'm not here to hurt you," Joker says, raising his hands above his head. "You can put the pencil down."

Zayn can definitely hear the smirk on his voice now, and he blushes furiously when he looks down at his own hand, cursing himself for being so stupid. How he was even supposed to fight him using a fucking pencil?

"You're not?" Zayn asks dumbly.

"No, of course not," Joker says, walking closer allowing the light can reach his face properly, showing his features to Zayn.

"Why are you here, then?"

"Well, I was bored down there so I decided to have a walk just to distract myself," Joker shrugs with a little pout, placing both of his hands on Zayn's table. "And besides, you always keep a nice book on your drawer. The one you were reading last week was really inspiring."

The blush on Zayn's cheeks grows even darker, his face actually feeling afire when he remembers which book he was reading just a couple of weeks ago. It was _It_ by Stephen King, and right now there's nothing less subtle than a book about a killer clown terrorizing people around.

"W-Well, you can't stay," Zayn says, laying his pencil down. "Someone can see you and I’ll get in trouble."

"Let's go somewhere else, then," Joker says, motioning to the door. "I've been wanting to catch some fresh air anyway."

"Are you going _out_?" Zayn asks, his feet glued to the floor preventing him from moving.

"It's not like I haven't done it before."

The revelation doesn't surprise Zayn, not really, but the offer still sets his heart on an unsteady rhythm. There has always been something keeping Zayn apart from the Joker since day one: guards, a wall made of glass, a table. There has always been a boundary between them, and Zayn knows that accepting his offer would be like crossing a line with no coming back.

That doesn't stop Zayn from following him out of his office.

They are as silent as cats while walking through the hallways of the Asylum, creating absolutely no sound. For someone who's always laughing and being obnoxiously loud Joker can be sneaky, Zayn notices, eyes fixed on his bare feet touching the ground in an almost rehearsed way. For a moment he thinks that the clown is leading them to the main entrance (which would be something dumb to do because there are guards there twenty-four-seven) but instead he guides them to the fire exit staircase, which will lead them to the terrace.

Zayn has never been all the way up there, but when the Joker opens the door for the terrace he decides the journey through the stairs has been totally worth it. There's nothing special there, only some air ducts and a huge antenna, but the moon... The moon looks absolutely gorgeous from up there, huge and looking so close like Zayn could touch it if he reached his arm far enough.

"I always come here when I need to think about stuff," Joker says, walking further into the terrace until he reaches the ledge.

"You’re not going to-“ Zayn starts but the Joker is already pulling himself onto the ledge, legs hanging over dangerously.

"Come on," the Joker calls him, turning his head to look at Zayn over his shoulder. The moonlight casts shadows over his features in the most unique way, and Zayn's fingers itch uncomfortably with need to put it down on paper, transform this beautiful sight in lines of ink.

No one in their rightful state of mind would accept an offer to sit with someone on the ledge of a twenty-store building, especially if that person was a serial killer who doesn't care about rules or consequences. But Zayn is not on his right state of mind right now, too busy trying to memorize Joker's features to even acknowledge how his body seems to move on its own, climbing by his side and sitting down as comfortably as he can, shoulder brushing against Joker's, who's now humming a song that sounds horribly like that snake song Nicki Minaj sings.

"Do y-you want a sandwich?" Zayn asks when he realizes he's still holding the paper bag with his snacks. "I have tuna and ham, and some chips too."

"Fuck, that sounds heavenly," Joker says with a moan, accepting the food gladly. "Food here sucks."

"That's why I bring these," Zayn chuckles, unwrapping the foil from around his sandwich and putting it inside his paper bag.

His comment rips a laugh from Joker, his mouth open full of bread and ham. "I swear I've faced monsters more terrifying than their food."

Silence falls over them as they eat, the late night breeze washing over their faces, making both of their cheeks light pink. The Joker compliments Zayn's cooking skills every now and then (like it takes real cooking skills to make a simple sandwich), and sometimes their fingers brush when they reach for the packet of chips at the same time. When Zayn turns to look at him he finds the Joker's face painted by moonlight, the bright light giving the impression that his face is covered by the usual white paint, but his hair is not green nor are his mouth covered by red. His face is still an enigma for Zayn, but he admires how his fringe falls over his eyes as he look down, wind brushing his hair away like it's a scene in slow motion.

When they finally finish eating Zayn grabs his pack of cigarettes from the pocket inside his jacket, offering one to the Joker who accepts it. He lights up both of them quickly, placing his own in between his lips and taking long drags.

"So," Zayn says, blowing the smoke upwards. "Care to explain how you manage to get away from your cell every night?"

"We're not in one of our sessions, doctor," Joker says sarcastically, blowing smoke all over Zayn's face. "And besides, I don't want you to go running to the guards and telling them my secrets."

"I'm just curious. And like you said, If I was going to tell the guards I would've done it already," Zayn shrugs, looking away from him. It's true, though, and that makes a heavy weight sit uncomfortably on Zayn's chest, thinking about when he abandoned his work ethics in order to protect Joker.

"Well, since you're being proper nice tonight I will tell you," Joker says, turning his whole body towards Zayn. "You see, these people are very clever but they don't think about the obvious. So, it’s pretty easy to escape through the air ducts."

" _Air ducts?_ " Zayn exclaims loudly, slapping his hand against his mouth right after.

"Yeah, luckily these air ducts are big enough to fit my very developed and manly body or else I don't know what I would do, really."

There's no sarcasm on his voice this time, which makes Zayn raise his eyebrows because there's nothing developed or manly about Joker's body. He's very petite actually, smaller than Zayn with a tiny waist and shoulder blades, his arms covered in tattoos being nothing in comparison to Liam's enormous biceps.

In times like these he wonders how this tiny man can be so dangerous.

"Hum, actually-"

"Anyway," says the Joker, cutting Zayn off with an ironic eye roll. "I'm glad I can get away every now and then. It's pretty boring down there."

"Why don't you escape for good then?" Zayn asks, the question sliding through his lips before he can hold it. "I mean, you obviously can if you want."

That rips a genuine laugh from Joker, rougher because of the smoke on his throat, his shoulders shaking with it. "And what would be the fun in that, dear Zayn?"

The way his name rolls from Joker’s tongue makes his fingers tremble, sending a weird feeling all over his body. It's like how he feels when an urge to draw takes over his fingers, but instead he feels it all over his body, every muscle tingling with something. He shoves his cig in between his lips again, taking long drags and avoiding Joker's burning gaze.

"Why do you do it?" He asks instead of answering, his eyes scanning through the stars.

"Ugh, are you sure we're not in one of our sessions?"

"I'm just curious," Zayn says, like that's a reasonable excuse.

Joker doesn't answer right away, and Zayn doesn't dare to push him. For a moment he grows tense, like he just exceeded all the boundaries of... well, of whatever they have going on here. He wouldn't be surprised if Joker pushed him over the ledge, throwing him to a cruel death, but instead he just chuckles, the tiny sound grabbing Zayn's attention.

"Not everything needs to have a why, you know," Joker says, then brings his cigarette to his lips. Zayn waits while he breathes the smoke in, then out again, before he replies.

"What do you mean?"

"You are really naive, Zayn," There's no malice nor teasing behind his voice, which makes Zayn hang on every single word coming out of his mouth. "You know, some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, fixed, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."

His words are full of meaning, but his face is as empty as the packet of chips sitting between them. Zayn scans his eyes through Joker’s face, searching for something. But there's nothing, nothing that can help him to figure out this person sitting right by his side. His eyes, previously full and crinkling with laughter, are now empty and opaque, static as the sea after a storm.

Weirdly enough, his face says much more now than when there's a maniac smile there.

Joker takes one last drag from his cigarette and throws the butt away in the night, the smoke leaking from his nose. "I should probably go," he says, jumping back from the ledge. "Don't want them to know I've been out."

"Yeah, you should probably go," Zayn says, eyes fixed on the dark sky in front of him.

He can feel Joker's eyes on the back of his neck, burning holes on the top of his head and probably reading every single thought rushing through. Zayn doesn't move to acknowledge him, though, and that would be the perfect moment for the Joker to push him from up there, sending his body to crash on the cold pavement. But instead he hears the soft tap of his bare feet walking away and the metallic creak of the door opening and falling shut again.

The night is silent around him when Joker leaves. Zayn doesn't feel like going back to his office, so he grabs his cellphone from his pocket and unlocks it, the picture Liam sent earlier showing up on the screen right away. They look so happy on the picture, Harry and Liam, and for a moment Zayn is glad he couldn't make it, otherwise he would be intruding on their little date. The realization stings, more than it should, and suddenly he feels alone. He doesn't have anything like what Harry and Liam have, he doesn't have a reason to be. What he has is a job and bills to pay, nothing else. A boring life, at most.

Ignoring the bitter taste burning on the back of his throat Zayn pulls the camera app up and snaps a blurry picture of the moon, quickly sending it back to Liam with a bunch of emojis of moons as caption.

The moon makes him company until he finishes smoking his cigarette, the taste of smoke masking all the bitterness he's feeling.

 

\---

 

When he arrives at his office on the next day he finds a purple box waiting for him on his table. There's a card attached to the box, looking exactly like the one he received with the flowers, and Zayn smiles to himself when he sees the words written on it.

_forgot to thank for the sandwiches, how rude of me!_

Zayn chuckles under his breath, throwing his bag behind the chair before grabbing the box. It's heavy, but he doesn't really think that much before opening it, which proves to be a mistake when a pie jumps upwards, hitting him square on the face and making a mess all over his clothes.

"Fucking shit," Zayn mumbles to himself, trying to get rid of the icing on his eyelids.

He can't say he's surprised, not really. And if he smiles under all the cream covering his face, well, nobody needs to know.

 

\---

He doesn't mean it to happen, really, but after that day on the rooftop he falls into a habit of feeling excited for Joker's sessions. They only have one session per week, but that's enough to take Zayn of his routine of boring patients because he never had someone _that_ interesting. He actually can't remember the last thing that made him feel this excited, which is a signal of how tedious his life really is.

He's still not sure he entirely _likes_ the Joker though, because he's still got a bit of an awkward sense of humor and he's a killer, after all. But he's also genuinely funny sometimes, which Zayn reluctantly admits, and he stopped with the creepy maniac grin at some point (" _I was just trying to scare you!_ "). Sometimes he even forgets that he was supposed to be working when Joker is in the room, doodling his face on his notepad instead of actually taking notes. At this point he feels like he knows the Joker, so he doesn't bother to take notes about him, letting his fingers finally free to draw him as much as he want while the man babbles about everything and nothing at all.

But the weirdest thing about their sessions is the fact that Zayn feels more like himself around Joker; it's not every day Zayn is able to let himself be more carefree and chill as he really is, especially when most of his patients need him to be serious all the time, but Joker definitely brings it out of him. He's annoying and fidgety and seems to be going out of his way to push all of Zayn's buttons, and when Zayn retaliates he just comes back even more obnoxiously. It's the most fun Zayn's had in ages. It's nice.

Maybe the rush of joy that goes through his body when the guards bring Joker that afternoon it's somehow related to all of that. But his smile quickly fades away, being replaced by a deep frown when he sees Joker's face. Or what's _supposed_ to be his face.

His face is hidden by a brown paper bag, with a silly smiley face drawn on it. The only thing Zayn can see is the little spark of his eyes through ripped holes, the paper blocking everything else.

"I'm sorry, doctor, but he refuses to take the bag off," the guard says, ready to handcuff Joker to the chair.

"It's fine. You don't need to handcuff him to the chair, though," says Zayn, making a dismissive gesture with his hands.

"Are you sure?"

"I can handle him," Zayn answers, flashing a tiny smile towards Joker.

He waits until the door clicks closed behind the guard before placing his elbows on the table, looking at his patient with a raised eyebrow. "Why are you wearing that?"

"I can’t let people see my bare face," the Joker answers immediately, voice coming muffled by the paper bag. "I've washed all the remains of paint this morning, there's nothing left to hide me."

"Well, you look proper dumb with that thing on your head."

"Sorry, not all of us have awesome drawing skills," Joker says with a huff.

Zayn examines him for a moment, from the way his arms are crossed tightly against his chest to the little glimpse of his eyes through the holes. He never saw him this... cagey. Joker's always been open with laughs and jokes and his inappropriate sense of humor, but now Zayn feels like there's a wall around him keeping them apart. He looks fragile.

Without sparing much thought to it Zayn turns around on his chair to take a hold on his bag, fumbling its contents until he finds the paper bag with his lunch inside. He empties the paper bag and grabs a pen and a scissor from inside his drawers, immediately drawing thin lines all over the brown surface of the paper.

"What are you doing?" Joker asks, leaning forward slightly.

"Making a proper mask for you," Zayn says, tongue poking out with concentration as he draws. "You need something cooler, or else nobody's going to take you seriously."

"Take me seriously?" Joker laughs, mocked offense on his voice.

"You're the biggest criminal in all Gotham, you can't wear _that_."

He doesn't get an answer for that last statement, and he glances up quickly to see the Joker staring back at him, arms still crossed over his chest. Zayn feels something twist on his own chest and decides to look down at his work again, cheeks burning as he keeps drawing Joker's face on the paper.

"You annoy me so much," Joker finally says, making Zayn's hand slip a bit in the middle of drawing a straight line. "I mean, you're good at everything. You're a good doctor, you make amazing sandwiches, you draw really well, you're good at gymnastics for fuck's sake."

"How do you know that?" Zayn asks, cheeks getting darker and darker as the Joker keeps complimenting him.

"It's hanging behind you," Joker says quickly, pointing at the certificate he won on his last year of high school. _Of course_.

"Well, I'm not good at everything," he shrugs, grabbing the scissor to cut some holes for Joker's eyes.

"Like what?"

"Jokes," Zayn says, his lips curling up in a tiny smile. "I'm awful at telling jokes."

"You can't be _that_ bad," Joker replies, and Zayn can tell that he's trying to mask how much he's enjoying this.

"I'm hopeless."

"Tell me one then," Joker says, leaning forward and resting his chin on his closed fist.

"What? No, I will just embarrass both of us."

"Just one? Please?"

If he wasn't wearing that hideous mask Zayn would be able to see him pouting, which must be the cutest thing in the world. He drops the scissors and the bag on the table with a heavy sigh, teeth buried on his bottom lip as he thinks if making a fool of himself would be worth it.

"Okay, fine," Zayn says, flashing Joker a defeated smile. "Knock knock."

Joker shakes his head. “Nuh uh, no way. Knock knock jokes are exclusively for ages four and under.”

Zayn grins widely. “Knock knock,” he repeats.

Joker barely rolls his eyes. "Who's there?"

"Barbie."

"Barbie who?"

"Barbecue."

There's a long pause after that, both of them staring at each other in what should be a compelling way. If Zayn had a shovel he would probably be digging a hole to put his own head in right now, too ashamed to have Joker's eyes on him after such a lame joke but still unable to take his eyes off him.

But then a laugh cracks from Joker's chest and he buries his bag-covered face on his own arms, his hysterical laugh coming out muffed by both the bag and his arms. Zayn lets a tiny desperate laugh out too, confused about what the fuck just happened.

"Bar-", Joker says breathlessly, laughs cutting of his attempts to talk. "Barbecue! That was fucking genius Zayn, how do you come up with something like that?"

"I'm sure I read it somewhere," Zayn answers, grabbing his pen to continue his work.

"I will definitely add that one to my repertory," says the Joker, slipping his hands under the bag to wipe at his wet eyes. "That one is a killer."

Zayn chuckles under his breath, shaking his head as he finishes drawing Joker's eyes. It looks pretty decent, he thinks, with big eyes and an overly stretched smile full of teeth.

"Done," Zayn finally says, turning the bag around to show it to him. "Do you like it?"

"It looks sick!" Joker squeaks, He literally _squeaks_ , making Zayn beam at him. "I wish my face looked like that... I would be one hundred percent more terrifying."

"Like you need to be more terrifying," Zayn replies, giving him the mask. "C'mon, put it on."

" _Now?_ " he asks, sounding alarmed by Zayn's idea.

"Yeah, now," Zayn says with a little eye roll. "Don't worry, I'm not going to tell anyone that I saw you without make up."

"Fuck off."

Zayn watches as the Joker thinks about it, can almost hear the gears on his head working out his decision. He looks hesitant again, holding the new mask on his hand, and Zayn wishes he could see his expression right now, try to figure out what's going on within him. He's so caught up on his own thoughts that he almost misses the way Joker's hand quickly rips the paper bag off his head, pushing his long brown hair from his face right away and looking at Zayn with bright, blue eyes.

It's like all the invisible walls come crumbling down at once, and Zayn feels the breath catching on his throat. His eyes roam freely through Joker's face, from his thin pink lips to his button nose and petite features, cheekbones that could probably cut glass and all tanned skin. It should be illegal how good he looks without the paint covering his face, different from everything he has ever seen and at the same time so familiar, like a memory being watched through a glass darkly.

Something must show on his face because Joker quickly covers his face with the mask Zayn draw for him, his blue eyes peeking through the holes.

"Well? Do I look good?"

"Absolutely beautiful," Zayn says right away, his brain to mouth filter working a little bit later than it should, making him realize how dumb he must have sound. "I-I mean, the mask looks really good."

"It does," Joker says in a weary tone. Thankfully (or not) the door slams open right away, the guards immediately stepping inside to take Joker to his cell. "Thanks for this."

"You're welcome," Zayn replies, but they're already pushing him out the door, the scene making the heat polling on the pit of his stomach grow even further.

He immediately bangs his forehead against the table, mumbling profanities to himself. How could he be such a loser? Talking to Joker like that? He’s his patient, which is awkward enough, but he's also a psycho killer who enjoys making people suffer. He can't exactly pin-point what he's exactly feeling, but the truth is that he shouldn't be feeling _anything_.

But his face. His face looks like something taken out from a painting. Zayn never _ever_ imagined that under all those layers of paint Joker was hiding the most beautiful face he has ever seen. The image is memorized on his brain, every single detail of his face, and Zayn quickly grabs a blank piece of paper to start working on a quick doodle, putting everything on paper before he forgets about something from that flawless face.

It's just when he finishes the drawing that he realizes how fucked he really is.

 

\---

 

Zayn notices something is wrong from the moment he jumps from the bus that morning.

The sky is still grey above him, and the trees are still naked as he walks through the gates of the Arkham Asylum. It's still pretty early so there's a little bit foggy around him, and the air is cold making his  ache a little with each intake of breath. But with every step he takes the sirens get closer and louder, which is not usual at all.

Things only get weirder when he finds the entrance of the Asylum blocked by countless police cars, the red and blue from the sirens painting the boring grey walls with the flashing colors. Zayn walks quickly to the entrance, showing his identification to one of the cops when they ask him to, and steps towards the main hall in large steps, finding a lot more activity than he would usually see on a normal day.

"Zayn!"

Only a few steps away is Harry, waving his ridiculously long arm over his head to get his attention. By his side is Liam, wearing his full Batman outfit and looking at him with hard eyes. Shit must be serious if Liam is here, Zayn thinks, walking slowly on their direction.

He also thinks about how ridiculous Liam looks right now, wearing that _thing_ on daylight.

"What happened?" Zayn asks once he reaches them.

"It's the Joker," Harry says, running his fingers through his long hair and scratching at his own head, brows furrowed.

Zayn inhales sharply, his stomach doing a full looping inside of him as his wide eyes go from Liam to Harry. "What? Did he escape?" he replies instantly, unable to hide his worried tone.

"No, he's still here," Harry says. "It's quite the opposite, actually. Some guys tried to break in last night to get him out, but we got them."

"They're very dangerous," Liam finishes, getting Zayn's attention.

"Where are they right now?"

"Locked up," says Liam, getting his bat-phone-ipad thing from his belt. "We actually want you to see them, if that's possible?"

"We?" Zayn asks, looking at Harry.

"Me and Mr. Sharp," Liam replies, already walking away towards the elevator, making Zayn and Harry hurry to catch up. "We want you to tell us if the Joker mentioned them to you in one of your sessions."

Their sessions. The ones they spend chatting about useless things and making dumb masks. Yeah, of course Zayn can do it.

They make their first stop one level above Joker's, the platform stopping with a sudden jolt, almost sending Zayn and Harry to the ground. Liam seems unfazed though, and once the doors open he walks in large steps to where Mr. Sharp is already waiting for them, looking like a tomato ready to explode inside of his suit.

"Mr. Malik," he nods, keeping his hands to himself. "I believe Batman and Mr. Styles already filled you in about what happened."

"Y-Yeah, I've heard about what happened," Zayn says, rubbing his sweaty palms against each other as quiet as he can.

"Well, we've got the two elements who tried to break in last night," he says, turning around to walk through the corridor full of cells.

This floor, unlike the Intensive Treatment Care, has cells full of prisoners. They all bang against the walls and scream profanities at them as they walk by, their loud voices ringing in Zayn's head making his skull vibrate. He tries to pay attention to what Mr. Sharp is saying but there's no voice coming out of his mouth, his senses focusing on the ocean of faces looking at him through the glass walls.

"...and here's our little rebel," Mr. Sharp says, shaking Zayn out of his blurred state of mind. "This one calls himself Lucky Charm."

They're standing right in the front of the furthest cell of this floor, the screams now a little bit muffled from there. Through the glass Zayn can see a blonde guy, probably not older than himself, with piercing blue eyes and pale skin. He doesn't look like a criminal at all, wearing a white tee, blue jeans and white converses. He stares back at them quietly, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed.

"Lucky Charm?" Zayn asks, turning to look to Liam. "I'm pretty sure I've never heard of him."

"That's because he's not from here," Liam says, eyes fixed on the screen of his phone. "He's from Ireland. We did some background research and found out that his real name is Niall Horan. Does the name ring a bell to you?"

Zayn is pretty sure the Joker never mentioned a Niall Horan, so he just shakes his head.

"Are you sure, Malik?" Mr. Sharp asks, his eyes of the size of peas, shining at him with uncertainty.

"I'm positive."

"Let's go see the other one then." Zayn sighs at Mr. Sharp’s suggestion, shoulders tensing as they start to walk towards the elevator again. Zayn tries to block the screams as much as he can, and Harry must feel his discomfort because he suddenly slips his arm around Zayn's shoulders, rubbing his bicep with a tiny smile on his face.

They follow Liam and Mr. Sharp when the elevator reaches the lowest level. "I thought the Joker was supposed to stay on solitary confinement?" Harry asks the question that's been hanging on the tip of Zayn's tongue.

"We needed a special cell for this one," Liam replies immediately. "Can't afford to let her use her powers."

Zayn doesn't even have time to assimilate the world "powers" and they're already stopping in front of a cell that was previously abandoned. It's not that different from the others, apart from the red bright lights shining from inside, and Zayn can feel the heat coming through the glass even standing ten feet away. There's a woman lying on the floor, skin glistering with sweat and rebellious hair all messed up around her head.

"Her name is Anne-Leigh," Liam tells them, eyes fixed on his phone. "But she's known as Poison Ivy."

"I've heard about her," Zayn says, heart hammering against his chest because she can't really be _the_ Poison Ivy. "Not from Joker, I mean. But she's quite famous."

"She's quite famous." Liam agrees.

"Why do we have to keep her in such horrible conditions?" Harry asks, grimacing at the way she’s lying on the floor looking weak.

"She can control plants," Zayn says before Liam can, feeling suddenly proud of his vast knowledge about villains. "If we keep her under high temperatures she won't be able to grow any plants in there, got it?"

"Y-Yeah, I think," Harry says, brows furrowing.

"So, Joker never mentioned her to you, Malik?" Mr. Sharp asks, stepping away from the cell.

"No, I'm pretty sure I would remember if he had mentioned her," Zayn says, not able to hold his own tongue. He feels his whole face getting hot under three suspicious gazes.

"Okay, let's talk to the man himself, then."

It's not a long walk from Poison's cell to where Joker is locked up, and Zayn almost gasps when Mr. Sharp finally unlocks the room to reveal the place filled with guards, each of them holding a big gun pointing directly at Joker through the glass; he’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of his cell, paper bag still hiding his face and wrists tightly cuffed together. He looks small in this room full of people, almost vulnerable, and Zayn suddenly feels the urge to enter that cell and envelop him with his own arms.

He feels sick.

"Look who's here, the Bat-freak in the flesh," comes Joker's voice, muffled by the bag and the thick glass separating them.

"Silence, clown!" Mr. Sharp exclaims, banging his fat fist against the glass. "Tell us how you were involved in last night's events."

Joker chuckles audibly at the question, raising his cuffed hands for everyone to see. "And how do you suppose I was involved in any of this, Sharpie? I'm cuffed, love."

Something about the tone of his voice or how he sarcastically holds his arms up to show his cuffed wrists to Mr. Sharp makes Zayn smile brightly at him, almost proudly. For a moment he forgets that he's inside a room with almost thirty people, the majority of them holding heavy guns and with Liam and Harry by his side, people who know him better than anyone. He tries to mask his feelings the best he can, but his eyes remain fixed on Joker all the time.

"Someone should go take that stupid thing from his face," Mr. Sharp suddenly says, pointing at a random guard. "You there, do it."

"I-I'm not sure if that's a good id-"

"Quiet, Malik."

Zayn's mouth falls shut immediately, his sharp teeth sinking on his bottom lip until he tastes blood in order to stay quiet. While every eye on the room is fixed on the guard who's unlocking the door of Joker's cell Zayn can't find in him to look away from Joker, the later still sitting on the floor with his hands cuffed.

The silence is absolute. Zayn can't even hear Harry breathing by his side. Every muscle on his body is concentrated on Joker, and his stomach literally jumps as the guard approach him with his big gun in hand. He's hesitant, taking slow steps into the cell, until he finally stops right in front of Joker, looking down at his smaller form on the ground.

"Take it off, clown."

There's no response. Joker is still looking at the ground, hands clasped in front of him. The guard uses his gun to poke Joker's head, making Zayn gulp at the scene. Right now he's not sure if he's amazed by the guy's courage or scandalized by his stupidity.

"I said take it off."

Zayn has a feeling he knows what's going to happen next before Joker himself.

The guard reaches his hand to take a hold on the bag covering his face but before he can do that the Joker is already jumping over his head, and Zayn's mouth hangs open because he never saw someone do a jump like that. He lands behind the guard with a soft thump, turning around quickly and enveloping the man's neck with the chains of his handcuff, the metal pressing against his windpipe making him gasp, the gun falling to the ground immediately.

There's a huge commotion on the room, the guards stepping forward and one of them being brave enough to even shoot against the glass. But instead of suffocating the guard even further the Joker just takes him to the door and literally kicks him out, sending him flat against the floor gasping for air.

"You shouldn’t play games with me, Sharpie," Joker says, his face pressed against the glass. "If you send another guard through that door I'll make sure to remind you why I’m here."

A heavy silence falls over the room after Joker's words, the already tense atmosphere growing even thicker making a bunch of guards step back and share incredulous looks. Liam, on the other hand, looks absolutely unfazed when he turns around to look at his friends. "You two should probably go," he says to Harry and Zayn, his hard eyes showing the tiniest bit of concern.

"But-"

"We should go, Zayn," Harry agrees, pushing Zayn towards the door. "We are of no use right now."

Zayn could probably free himself from Harry's grasp if he wanted but his body seems to be paralyzed by fear. Fear of what they will do to him, to Joker. He only manages to turn his head around to have a final look at him over his shoulder, finding Joker's eyes fixed on him through the black holes of his mask, face pressed against the glass.

It's like he's leaving something behind, something he can't exactly pin point what it is. His body feels heavy, and with each step the desire to come back only grows within him.

He feels like a coward.

 

\---

 

That night Zayn finds himself sitting in the middle of his dark and messy closet instead of going out with his friends to have a laugh and maybe a few drinks like a normal twenty-four-year old probably would. It's not like he's not used to spending his nights alone at this point, but the loud music and noise coming from somewhere near his apartment sets a strange feeling on his chest as he tries to concentrate on the yellow-ish piece of paper on his hands, an article about the Joker he cut out from the newspaper some months ago.

Ever since Zayn saw Joker's face for the first time he felt like he was missing something; it was like he had all the pieces of a puzzle right in front of him except the last one. It's a frustrating feeling that has been eating him from the inside ever since he waked away from Joker, leaving him behind with Liam and those guards. After feeling so helplessly powerless, useless even, he decided he couldn't wait anymore. He had to do something.

That's how he ended up sitting on his closet on a Friday night, surrounded by dirty clothes unloading box after box from the shelves, each one filled with folders, newspapers, magazines and articles about the Joker. Zayn knows that any other person would consider this a creepy behavior, but he has always been fascinated about the villain and he tries to convince himself that this is all research material. It works most of the time.

His frustration only grows further as he keeps reading article after article, trying to find _something_ that he might let slip through his eyes, a simple detail, but there's nothing he already don’t know. He drops the folder he's been holding for the past ten minutes and buries his face on his palms, letting a tired huff come out.

Zayn jumps to his feet abruptly, thinking about taking a break to have a piss and eat something, but his thoughts are quickly interrupted by a shock of pain when the top of his head hits the bottom of a lower shelf, the impact so strong that one of the boxes fly to the floor, scattering its contents everywhere.

"Shit," Zayn hisses to himself, immediately lifting his hand to rub at the swelling forming on his head. The pain makes his whole skull throb, and his vision goes blurry with tears when he looks down to the mess of notebooks and photographs all over the floor.

He quickly kneels in the middle of the closet and starts shoving everything inside of the box, the pain making him even more restless. Right now he only needs some painkillers, a bag of ice on his head and a good night of sleep. He's just putting an old chemistry notebook back into the box when he realizes another book lying open a couple of inches away from him.

It's an old high school yearbook, the pages filled with unknown faces smiling at him. Zayn honestly don't know why he kept this: the only thing he remembers from high school is the endless gymnastic classes he had to take in order to get a nice scholarship so he could go to uni, which is an unpleasant memory.

He takes the yearbook on his hands and starts to go through the pages, smiling down at the funny pictures and trying to find himself among all those strangers. He finds himself wondering where all these people are nowadays when his eyes fall over one face in particular. It's like his breath gets trapped in his lungs as he stares at the boy, his stomach fluttering wildly as he scans his features, from his brown hair to his tanned skin and blue eyes, a timid smile on his face.

It's the Joker.

But at the same time it's not the Joker. Zayn can spot the similarities but a lot has changed on him since that picture was taken. In the picture his hair is not so wild, looking like a mushroom instead, and there is a pair of glasses perched on his button nose. His skin looks much more tanned in the picture too, and Zayn doesn't even have to look at the picture because he remembers now.

 _Louis William Tomlinson_ , it's written under the picture.

"Shit," Zayn repeats, running his fingers through his hair and letting a ragged breath out, the tears now running freely through his cheeks.

Zayn remembers Louis Tomlinson: he was simply the brighter, most beautiful boy back in high school. Zayn was just sixteen at the time, one year younger than Louis, and maybe that's the reason why he never approached the boy to have a simple talk, never had the guts to just interact with him. Every time Zayn saw Louis on the hallways his eyes would stay glued on him until he walked away or turned around the far corner, always admiring his beauty, his confidence.

He was Zayn's first boy crush, the first wank he had over a boy.

But while Louis was bright and beautiful under his eyes, for others he was something far worse. Zayn can't remember why, the memories feeling blurry and dizzy, his pounding head being of no help, but he remembers how the other boys would tease Louis on the locker room, or how many times he watched Louis being pushed against his locker by other boys, bigger boys. Yet again Zayn was only sixteen, small at the time and not the most popular boy in school, so there was nothing he could do apart from watching. He was just an ordinary boy who spent too much time practicing gymnastics and reading books.

He would always walk away when Louis needed him the most.

The pounding on his head only grows as his brain process all the information going through. Louis, the sweet and scared boy he fancied all those years ago during high school, is now one of the most dangerous killers in Gotham. He lies down on a pile of dirty clothes on his dark closet, his eyes aching as the salty tears slip across his skin, and there's a tight feeling on his chest as images of Louis being pushed around, teased, bullied run through his eyes.

It’s kind of tragic to think about what he became, and it's funny how history repeated himself only a couple of days ago. Zayn remembers how small Louis looked through the glass of his cell as he walked away from him, leaving him behind with those awful guards. Zayn wasn't able to help him all those years ago and he’s still not able to help him now.

His eyes fall shut as he tries to recollect himself, trying to figure out what he will do now that he knows _everything_. Louis becoming the Joker still sounds too absurd on his head, but it feels right for him to become that person after everything he went through all those years ago. His jokes start to have more meaning for Zayn now, and the way he finds joy on killing people makes a lot of sense. It's a disturbing behavior but Zayn can't blame him, especially because he saw what he had to pull through day after day.

Gotham High was hell for Louis. And maybe the school held all the answers Zayn was looking for.

He jumps to his feet in a fast movement, holding the yearbook tight on his hand as he walks back into his bedroom, throwing himself on the bed and grabbing his laptop from between the covers. Everything feels dizzy, his head still pounding slight and his eyes aching with every blink, but he still manages to type the information into the search bar and tap the number of the school as fast as his fingers will allow him.

It's pretty late at night but someone still picks up after some rings, making Zayn whole body turn rigid with anxiety. "Gotham High, how can I help you?"

"H-Hum, I'm looking for some information about a certain student," Zayn says, his voice sounding too insecure for his own liking. He hopes he doesn't sound like he was crying just a couple of minutes ago.

"I'm sorry sir, but we can't provide this kind of information over the ph-"

"I'm officer Payne from Gotham Police Department," He quickly adds up, rambling the first thing that comes into his mind; Liam will kill him if he ever finds out. "I'm sure you can make an exception? It's important."

A soft squeak comes from the other side of the phone, quickly followed by a tiny _hem_ as the woman seems to recompose herself. "I'm sorry officer, how can I help you?"

"Uh, I don't know if you can help me with this but I'm looking for information about an old student?" Zayn asks, not sure about what he should say. "His name's Louis Tomlinson."

"I will have to check our archives, would you want to wait or-"

"Waiting is fine," Zayn says quickly, murmuring a small _thank you_.

Whilst the woman is busy looking for whatever they have on Louis, Zayn busies himself searching for Louis on the internet. He keeps the phone pressed between his shoulder and ear as he types furiously on his laptop, typing Louis' name and trying to come up with something related to him but somehow he doesn't get anything apart from results about Louis XXIII of France.

He curses under his breath, not caring about the ruffling on the other side of the line. "Sir?"

"Yes, I'm here."

She doesn't answer right away, her breathing being the only thing coming from the phone. Zayn waits patiently, his stomach twisting with anticipation from what she might say to him.

"I'm sorry," she says, sighing heavily right after. "But Louis Tomlinson is dead."

Zayn feels all the air being knocked from his lungs for the second time that night, his mouth moving but no words coming out. His head spins like he's in the eye of a hurricane, and he has to close his eyes for a moment to let that piece of information sink in.

How can Louis be dead? Zayn has been seeing him every week for the past two months, there's no possible way for him to be dead. When he opens his eyes they immediately fall on the yearbook still open in front of him, Louis younger self smiling at him shyly; he has changed a lot, there's no doubt in that, but Zayn can feel him, can feel Louis in Joker. He's just the same person, only changed by tragedy.

"Sir? Are you there?"

The voice of the woman over the phone snaps him out of all the things going through his head. He clears his throat before answering her, tongue feeling heavy on his mouth. "Dead? How can he be dead?"

"It seems that there was an accident involving his whole family," the woman says, each word adding up to the pain on Zayn's chest. "It was one year after he graduated, and the report says that there were no survivors."

Zayn feels like he could cry again, but his eyes are dry after how much he cried just minutes ago. No survivors meant that Louis lived by himself all these years, getting his money and food in the alleys of Gotham City, _killing_ people. That beautiful, bright boy Zayn once knew had been deformed by tragedy and crime, turned into someone entirely new.

"I- That's all I needed to know," Zayn says, feeling his skin prickle uncomfortably. "Thank you."

"Have a good night, sir."

Zayn hangs up and throws his phone somewhere in the mess on his bed, falling backwards immediately and staring at the ceiling. His head still hurts and his stomach is grumbling with hunger but he can't help himself out of the bed to grab a snack or painkillers. He feels tired, both physically and mentally, but his brain doesn't stop working for a single minute even as his body screams for rest.

Louis isn't dead, that Zayn is certain of. He probably faked his own death, and Zayn has no idea of how he managed to do that. The police won't be of any help, and if Zayn goes to them it will only put Louis under risk or something. It's also Friday, which means he will only be able to go to the Asylum in two days and there's no way in hell he will sit and wait for the next forty-eight hours.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, and even though Zayn would rather not go to him for help he's the only person he has right now.

Zayn finally sighs at the ceiling, ignoring his groaning stomach and his pounding headache as his eyelids fall shut, letting sleep take over his body and making a quick mental note to ask for Liam's help first thing in the morning.

 

\---

 

From all the places Zayn has ever visited on his life, the so called _Bat Cave_ must be the weirdest of them all.

On the next morning he wakes up surrounded by warmth and a tiny trace of stinky smell, with the yearbook still clutched tightly against his chest. The pain on his head faded almost completely through the night and his stomach is still hurting from hunger, but instead of taking care of himself he grabs his phone from somewhere between the sheets.

He doesn't know what to say to Liam, but he decides against mentioning Louis whatsoever. The safest option is inviting him for lunch so he can try to extract some piece of information from him during the meal, hoping that Liam won't find the whole thing suspicious. Liam, on the other hand, barely leaves the Payne Mansion during the day in order to keep a low profile, so it's not a surprise when he asks Zayn to come over instead. It turns out to be great because Zayn is not too fond of cooking and he loves Alfred's food.

But the Bat Cave is not so great. Zayn has been down there a handful of times and he will never get used to the claustrophobic feeling of being underground. The place is so dark and just as big as the mansion above them, with staircases twisting and turning into different directions and lots of huge computer panels, bigger than the video billboards at Times Square, hanging from the ceiling. It was exciting at first, but now Zayn just loathes the place.

He tries to ignore the head rush taking over him as Alfred escorts him to the Bat Cave, the old man leading the way until they reach Liam who seems too focused on his computer. Harry’s sitting by his side, covered in a black robe with his hair tied in a messy bun at the top of his head.

"Hey Zee," Harry says when he notices him, getting up from his chair and enveloping Zayn in one of his ridiculously long arms. "How are you holding up?"

Not good, Zayn thinks immediately. Ever since he found out about Louis he's been nothing but miserable, going through turmoil of different emotions strong enough to physically affect him. It's a mix of guilty, self-loathing and sadness every time he thinks about everything Louis went through in the past couple of years without having anyone to help him. Let alone the fact that he's now probably the only person who knows the identity of the most dangerous criminal of all Gotham, Liam's archenemy, but instead of telling them he's staying quiet. All these emotions ache on his chest, feeling like he's carrying the weight of the world on his back.

"I'm fine," Zayn says, looking down at his own feet instead of facing his friends. "Everything is fine."

"Are you sure? You didn't seem fine yesterday when I dropped you off."

Zayn looked pretty shaken when he left with Harry on the day before, not knowing what to do in order to help Louis. While his brain screamed to every cell of his being to go back and stay by his side had other plans, letting him be carried away by a worried Harry like dead weight. It was pathetic.

"Positive," he mumbles, shrugging Harry's shoulder away and taking a few steps towards Liam, who's now looking at the two of them with weary eyes.

Alfred announces that lunch will be served in a few before he excuses himself and walks away, leaving the three of them alone. Zayn throws his bag in a chair nearby and sits on Harry's previous spot, looking at the giant screen in front of them. "So, what are you two doing?"

"I'm not doing anything," Harry huffs annoyed, going to stand behind Liam and playing with his shoulders. "My options were staying up there all by myself or being here watching Liam."

"I was just trying to track down other people who might be trying to help Joker," Liam says, ignoring Harry completely.

Zayn tries to not react at the mention of Louis as best as he can, but he still becomes slightly stiff on his seat. "Have you succeeded?"

"Not actually," Liam sighs, to Zayn's disappointment. "I've discovered a few hints that lead me to Two Faces, but I will have to look it up further before making a conclusion."

His answer does nothing to make the aching on Zayn's chest go away. He can barely keep himself from asking all the things he _really_ want to know right now, such as how's Louis and what they did to him, but he keeps his teeth girthed to prevent the words from slipping through. Liam must notice some change on his face because his brows furrow just the tiniest bit, but thankfully that's the moment when Alfred decide to come with the food.

The three of them move to sit on a table nearby, waiting for Liam to carefully move all his maps, files and equipment away before setting the food down. Zayn's stomach somersaults at the delicious smell, and he immediately fills his plate with a little bit of everything he can reach.

The conversation between them flows smoothly while they eat, but nothing seems to be enough to settle Zayn's nerves. He doesn't really pay attention to what Liam and Harry are saying, constantly drifting away on his own thoughts and answering them shortly. If his friends notice something wrong they decide to not mention it, which Zayn appreciates.

It's only when their plates are clean that Zayn clears his throat, turning their attention to him. "So, can you tell me what happened after we left yesterday?"

Zayn's eyes are fixed on Liam, who grabs a napkin to pat at his mouth softly before turning to him. He doesn't seem surprised by the question, but the way one of his eyebrows twitch doesn't go unnoticed by Zayn.

"Nothing happened," Liam says, his brown eyes staring right into Zayn's amber ones. "We just decided that would be a good idea to intensify Joker's therapy."

Some of the aching on Zayn's chest fades immediately. _Louis is okay_. He tries his best to mask his emotions as he holds Liam's gaze. "That's great," he says, his voice coming steady and serious. "Actually I was hoping you could help me."

"Help you?" Liam asks, eyebrows rising.

"Yeah, I thought that maybe you would know something about his past?" Zayn asks, his heart beating like crazy on his chest because he's been dying to ask this since he called Liam that morning. "I don't know, something that could help me to figure him out better and improve my progress on his sessions."

"Zayn-" Harry starts, but Liam raises his hand to silence him. It's an odd occurrence between the two of them, which makes Zayn brows furrow as he looks between his two friends.

"I don't know anything about Joker, Zayn," Liam says, his features growing all hard and _Batman-ish_ , settling a weird feeling at the pit of Zayn's stomach. "Joker is a mystery since he started committing crimes. We couldn't go further than figuring out his age, and that's what makes him the most dangerous of them all."

So Liam doesn't know that the Joker is in fact Louis and has no clue about how he faked his death when his whole family died in a mysterious accident. A part of him feels relieved because if Liam, of all people, doesn't know anything about Louis that means he's the only one who knows Louis' secret. But at the same time he can't help the feeling of powerlessness, not knowing what to do to help Louis.

"Oh," Zayn breathes, nodding briefly. "That's fine, don't worry. I just thought it would be nice to try a different approach on him and-"

"Actually, we decided to put an end to your sessions with the Joker too."

Liam's words hit Zayn like a wall of bricks, leaving his mouth hanging open as he stares at him. His first reaction is to let a small chuckle out, drifting his gaze from Liam to Harry, both staring back at him with serious faces.

"You can't be serious," Zayn says.

"Listen, Zayn," Harry replies softly, leaning forward to get his attention. "Joker is dangerous, okay? After what happened yesterday we just thought it wouldn't be safe for you to stay on a room with him anymore. I've been telling Liam this since day one, but he always decided to ignore me."

"But I'm fine," Zayn says, his voice sounding almost hysterical. "I've been able to help him, he improved _so much_. You can't just decide to end our sessions without consulting me."

"It's for your own safety, Zayn," Liam says in that final tone before getting up from his seat and walking away.

Something about Liam's behavior unleashes a burning feeling through his whole body, like his flesh is being set on fire. His fists tremble slightly where they're lying on the table, and he knocks his chair to the ground with a loud noise when he gets up, following Liam in large steps.

"Don't forget you were the one who dragged me into this fucking mess, Liam," Zayn spits in a vicious tone, staring at Liam's back.

"And now I'm dragging you out of it," Liam replies, turning around to look at him with a composed face. "Just forget about it, Zayn."

Zayn can't do anything but laugh a fake and sarcastic laugh, something similar to the way Louis' sounds after telling a particularly sick joke. "You're telling me what to do now? Really?"

Harry comes from behind him quickly, placing his large hands on Zayn's shoulders. "Calm down, Zee."

"Get off me, Harry," Zayn says, shrugging him away. "Your boyfriend can't tell me what to do just because he's freaking Batman."

"Zayn-"

"No, Liam, you can't. I'm not one of your little minions and I won't be told what to do. Not anymore."

He glances from Liam's indifferent face to Harry, who looks half hurt half confused, before turning on his heels and grabbing his jacket as he storms out of the room. He steps out of the Payne Manor with his whole body shaking with anger, not even the soft drizzle falling outside being able to cool him down.

There's so much going through his head, enough to make the pounding from earlier come back with full force. But even after everything that happened on the past twenty-four hours his thoughts still drift to Louis; flashes of a younger Louis being held down by much taller guys mix with more recent ones, of Louis wearing a paper bag over his head and looking at Zayn with a silent plea, while countless guards point guns at him. Thinking about it sets a new wave of rage through Zayn's being, and his fists clench by his sides as he walks away.

It's only when he arrives to his own apartment and throws himself on the couch that he decides what to do. It's not even up to him to decide anymore, he _has_ to help Louis. He owes him that much.

 

\---

 

The rest of the weekend goes by in an excruciatingly slow pace, setting Zayn in a state of hysteria so strong he can't even close his eyes at night. He gets countless calls from both Liam and Harry but he ignores them, instead spending his time reading all the articles he has about Louis over and over again, trying to find something he knows is not there.

It surprises him when he finds himself in his own office on Monday morning, waiting for the guards to bring Louis. It was hard to convince Mr. Sharp to let him keep their sessions going, but at the end he managed to put in his head this was the best solution.

His whole body is buzzing with anxiety and he's trying to decide what he's going to tell Louis when someone pushes the door open, shoving Louis inside harshly. Zayn stands with a jump, and his heart almost fly up his throat when his eyes scan through Louis state: he's still wearing the paper bag over his head, but the paper is wet and scorched at the edges. His hands shake furiously when the guard grabs them to cuff him to the chair, and something inside of Zayn snaps at the sight.

He steps forward with a swift movement, placing his hand on the man's chest. "You don't have to do this." he says, the muscles on his face hardening as he stares down at the guard in front of him.

"Sorry sir, but we have specific instructions-"

"I said you don't have to do this," Zayn repeats, his voice raising just a tiny bit. "I can deal with him."

The guard grumbles something under his breath before walking out of the room with the others following closely. Zayn's still standing there when the door clicks closed and Louis pulls the bag from his head, throwing it on the desk in front of him.

Something on Zayn's chest tightens even harder when he takes in Louis' appearance, letting an audibly gasp out because he looks _so_ damaged and sort of grey around the edges. There's no trace of makeup covering his face, his brown hair pointing at different directions, slight damp against his forehead, and there's a sick aspect on his skin, pale with big dark bags around his eyes. His thin lips are slightly purple too, and his blue eyes are red tinted with red, focused on his hands placed on his own lap.

He looks like the Louis from his yearbook, but at the same time he never looked so different.

Zayn falls to his knees by his side, his eyes never leaving Louis' face. There's some kind of itch under his skin, begging for him to grab Louis' hands on his own, and he can't stop himself from doing so. Louis' skin feels cold under his palm, and the man tries to pull away from him but Zayn tightens his grip, pushing his hand closer to his face.

"What have they done to you?" Zayn asks, barely whispering. His warm breath ghosts over the back of Louis' hands, making his breath hitch.

There are angry bruises around his wrist, and as much as Zayn's heart breaks at the sight he tries to ignore them.

"Have you ever heard about shock therapy, Zayn?" Louis replies, looking down at him with a surprisingly tiny smirk on his face.

Zayn stares at him with his mouth hanging open, his thumb brushing softly against Louis' skin without him even noticing. So that's what they were planning to do with him, induce him to the worst kind of torture in order to fix him.

"That's disgusting," Zayn says, feeling his insides burning with anger.

"Been through far worse," Louis shrugs, his blue eyes locked with Zayn’s. "They won't break me that easily."

The words ring on Zayn's ears like a curse. He wonders what Louis means by _they_ , but for some odd reason he can only think about the boys that used to beat him up, corner him against the lockers and take out their anger on a younger Louis. Zayn doesn't know what happened but something along the way was able to break Louis, turning him into what he is today. And right now the only thing he wants is to make him better.

"There's something I need to tell you," Zayn gulps, looking down at Louis hand. "Something important."

Louis rolls his eyes at him playfully, pinching Zayn's hand. "Don't be so melodramatic, just spit it out."

And there's his walls building up around him again, using this funny façade to cover how much damaged and insecure he's right now. Zayn can see right through him, proud of his psychologist skills, and that's what makes him even more hesitant about this because he knows exactly how Louis will react once he comes clean.

"Zayn?"

"I know," Zayn whispers, tightening his grip on Louis' hand, afraid he will fade away at any moment. "I know who you are."

He feels Louis' hand going still under his palm. "You're making no sense," he scoffs.

"Louis," he says out loud, the name rolling through his tongue like a charm. "Your name is Louis."

Zayn doesn't look away for a second, staring right inside of Louis' eyes. Eyes that have lost all traces of soft blue in a heartbeat, deepening into something grey and sinister, like a thunderstorm hitting shore with powerful waves, filled with rage at this point. His hand is trembling under Zayn's grip but he doesn't let go, staying on his knees instead as he watches realization hit Louis.

"You know-"

"Yeah," Zayn nods. "I feel like I've always knew, somehow."

That must set something on Louis because he tries to get up from the chair quickly. Zayn places his other hand on his thigh, and thankfully he's weak enough to not fight against him, falling back onto the chair with a soft thump.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Y-You're going to tell them," Louis says, shifting on his seat. "You're going to tell everyone and they will find out about me."

"Louis-"

"You're just one of them, you're just like them." Louis says calmly, despite the overwhelming urge to yell that Zayn knows is crawling up the back of his throat.

"Louis, please can you just-"

" _Don't_ call me that," Louis sneers, sounding offended. "My name is Joker."

Zayn just sighs frustrated, giving a gently rub on Louis' hand before getting up on his feet and walking around his table, sitting on his usual spot. Louis has his arms crossed in front of his chest now, looking at him with a deep frown on his face.

"I just want you know that I won't tell anyone," Zayn says, eyes planted on his hands as he plays with his own fingers aimlessly. "I just- Your secret is safe, okay?"

A tense silence falls over them after that, Zayn avoiding Louis' burning gaze as much as he can while he waits. He wouldn't be surprised if Louis decided to not trust him, especially after Zayn helped Liam to catch him. And Zayn is still friends with Liam after all, Louis' archenemy, which makes things worst for sure and-

"I remember you too, you know."

Zayn's head snaps up so quickly he can feel something in his neck pop, his tongue heavy inside his mouth as he tries to come up with some kind of answer. "Y-You do?"

"Yeah," Louis nods, the smirk growing on his face. "Little Zayn always busy with gym practices and books..."

Louis' confessing that he did notice Zayn during high school is enough to make him beam like an idiot, his smile reaching his eyes making his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"...watching me get beat up by those big, bad jocks."

The smile on his face melts away just as quickly as it came, a knot forming on Zayn's throat as he tries to come up with an answer.

"I-I'm really-"

"Don't worry about it," Louis shrugs, his piercing blue eyes shining at Zayn mischievously. "Besides, I made sure to take care of them myself after."

"What did you do?" Zayn asks, genuinely curious.

"Let's just say the rats from the sewer I used to live at enjoyed their dinner that night."

Something about Louis living on the sewers disturbs him more than the fact he killed people and feed them to the rats, and that probably just shows how really fucked up his priorities are right now.

"Did Batman do something like that to you? Bullied you, I mean."

"How would I know? He's always wearing a mask, isn't he?" Louis replies, his eyes looking like snake slits shining with malice.

It takes a while for Zayn to realize how stupid the question was. For starters Liam didn't even study in the same school as them during high school. Second, Liam would never bully anyone, especially after everything he had been through. But part of Zayn can't help but realize what he did to make Louis hate him so much, and vice-versa.

"He's crazy, you know."

Zayn looks up quickly at Louis quickly, partially confused about his sudden affirmation. "Who? Batman?"

"No, Santa Claus," Louis chuckles, making a disbelieving face. "Of course Batman. Always Batman. I've seen it in his eyes, you know? Screaming mad stalkers. And dishonest, hiding his face behind a fright mask. Well, no masks for me."

He watches as Louis grabs the paper bag from the table, tearing it apart bit by bit. "I have nothing to hide. I laugh at the cruel absurdity of the world. But Batman... Batman, he's got them all fooled. He's made them think he can make a difference. That he can actually make things better. And the joke is they all believe it."

"The police?" Zayn asks, tilting his head just slightly as he watches Louis vent.

"The police, the media, the fucking junior rangers, every last sack of walking meat in this urban cesspool," Louis says, throwing the pieces of what used to be his mask all around him like confetti. "Listen, love, Batman knows we're all on the same funhouse slide into madness, why won't he admit it? He's up there in his belfry laughing at us. And the real gag is, the miserable liar is allowed to run free while I'm in here."

Something different catches Zayn's attention while he watches Louis go on his rant; he looks angry but still fragile, like a cumpled piece of paper that could still cut you with its sharp edges, or the cold from the outside expressed sharply on his face. Zayn still finds him mesmerising.

"That's really... incisive." Zayn says, absorbing everything Louis just said. The possibility of Liam controlling and fooling people like he used to do to him and like he still does with some of his other minions is revolting.

"Then you understand, don't you?" Louis asks, getting up from his seat in a swift movement, stepping towards Zayn like a cat preparing to attack its prey. "You know why I do what I have to do. You know Gotham's only real savior is me."

Louis walks until he's standing behind Zayn's chair, placing both hands on Zayn's shoulders and rubbing them softly, leaning until his lips are almost pressing against his ear.

"We could be partners in crime, Zayn," Louis whispers, making Zayn's cock twitch just from the way his warm breath ghosts over his skin. "We could conquer the world."

"Th-That sounds nice," Zayn mumbles incoherently, feeling high on Louis.

"Imagine having everything you want," Louis says, sliding his hand from his shoulder to his chest, rubbing him over the layers of fabric. "We would be unstoppable."

Louis's pushing Zayn's button like he always does, but this time Zayn can't even find it on him to protest. Soon Louis moves again, placing himself on Zayn's lap and sitting right over his crotch, a smirk expanding on his face when he feels the semi Zayn is currently holding. He sits up and catches Zayn's face with the palm of his hand, inching their faces even closer as they stare into each other's eyes. Zayn notices how his skin looks even paler from up close, but he looks beautiful nonetheless.

"You could have anything you want, Zayn," Louis whispers, his breath washing over Zayn's face.

Zayn doesn't know what he's doing, hasn't properly thought this through, but he leans forward, pausing an inch away from Louis' face. He lifts his own hand to Louis' cheeks and runs his thumb over his face, over the spots that were once covered in black and white, and Louis nods, silently giving him permission to finally lean in and press their mouths together.

It's different from everything Zayn expected. He doesn't know what he expected for Louis to taste, but it was definitely not apple and cinnamon. He's not rough either, his lips instead soft and calm. It's the most innocent kiss Zayn's had in a long time, but it feels like his chest is inflating with every passing second. He moves his mouth against Louis' and Louis inhales shakily before pushing more firmly against his mouth, their lips moving in an almost rehearsed pace.

They don’t break the kiss until Zayn feels winded, slightly out of breath. He pulls back and the first thing he sees is how good Louis' lips looks after kissing, red and bruised.

"I-I'll help you," Zayn rambles, his mouth not even an inch away from Louis'. "I will take you out of here, just tell me what I have to do."

Louis quirks one of his eyebrows up. "Really?"

His hand is still on Zayn's cheek, and Zayn almost purrs at the way Louis' thumb ghosts against his skin. "Yeah, yeah I will."

Instead of answering Louis just rests his forehead against Zayn's, looking inside his eyes so deeply he can probably read everything that's going through his head. Deep inside of him he knows that helping Louis is the right thing to do, but having Louis on his lap looking down at him with a genuine smile just gives him even more reassurance.

He doesn't complain when Louis leans forward one more time, capturing his lips in a small kiss, both of them smiling against each other's mouths.

 

\---

 

When Zayn offered himself to help Louis he had no idea things would escalate so quickly.

It seems that Louis has been building a plan of his own ever since he arrived at the Asylum, and now that he has Zayn by his side he can finally put it into practice. Zayn knows he's a genius, a little crazy and maniacal perhaps, but still a genius, and that's proven when Louis explained his plan to him one night when he decided to pay him a visit.

"All you have to do is connect this to the security system," Louis explains, showing him an usb card. "And I will take care of the rest."

"How did you get this?" Zayn asks, grabbing the card and hiding it on his pocket.

"Nia- Lucky Charm managed to sneak it inside when he was captured," Louis says, immediately taking Zayn's hands. "My friend will fuck up the whole security and that's when I will escape."

Zayn takes a look on their joined hands before lifting his gaze to Louis' face. "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Do you trust me?" Louis asks, not one single trace of insecurity or doubt showing on his face.

"Of course," Zayn says quickly. "I know you're kind of a genius."

His cheeks get warm up at the confession and he takes his eyes away from Louis' face as fast as possible, but Louis grabs his chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting his head until their eyes meet again.

"This is going to work," he says, rubbing his fingers softly through Zayn's skin.

Louis' eyes are so hypnotizing, so blue and deep and alive that he loses himself inside them, the words coming from his mouth sounding irrelevant as he stares at him, his eyes drifting from Louis' eyes to his lips. Before he can control himself he's already leaning forward, joining their lips together and pressing Louis' against the door of his office softly, just enjoying the feeling of their bodies pressed together as Louis loses himself on Zayn as well, both of them lost on each other.

And so the plan was born.

But the truth is: getting his part of the plan done is too easy for Zayn's own liking. He's great friends with the security girl, Caroline, so all he had to do was get her distracted enough to slip the usb card on the main computer without getting noticed, which he succeeded wonderfully by throwing question after question about her daughter at her.

Zayn doesn't feel proud about fooling his friends, but he promised Louis he would help him. And when he left the security room later, leaving the card behind, he didn’t regret it at all.

When he gets to his own office later that evening he finds a scrambled note waiting for him on his table, Louis' scrawly writing covering the surface of the paper.

_Next monday. Be ready._

He doesn't know how Louis found out about him getting his job done, but if the electric feeling going down through his spine means something is that he’s not ready at all, but he tries to ignore it as he gets ready to receive his next patient.

 

\---

 

The weekend comes and goes so quickly that it feels like someone jinxed every clock in existence, making time pass extremely quick. Zayn is surprised when he finds himself lying on his couch Sunday night, the tv playing some lame cook show on mute while he stares at the ceiling with a cigarette perched between his lips as he contemplates all the life choices he'd made until this point.

For some reason he haven't thought about the consequences of helping Louis since this whole thing started. Not once it came through his mind what would happen once Louis finally got away, leaving him behind to live his criminal life all over again. And now, less than twenty-four hours before putting Louis' master plan into action, he can't stop thinking about what's going to happen to himself.

He's probably going to be arrested, for starters. The cops will discover his role on this scheme, and once they do he will probably be locked up for who knows how long. They can even kill him, sentence him to death penalty, and just the possibility of being killed for helping Louis is enough to make his whole body go all wobbly, a complete nervous wreck. He's been smoking like a chimney all day long, the nicotine talking over his senses and calming him just barely.

The idea of ditching work on the next day and just running away sounds tempting, but he has to see Louis at least one last time. He knows Louis will be able to escape now whether Zayn shows up or not, he has played his part already, but Zayn has to see him. His sanity depends on that.

His body feels like it’s running on automatic when he grabs his cellphone from between the cushions. He doesn't know if this will be his last night at home, the thought making him grow even more frantic, but _if_ this is his last night at home he can't just keep ignoring his friends. He needs to speak to them at least one more time.

He dials Harry's number first, figuring it would be easier to talk to him instead of Liam. Zayn waits as the phone rings over and over again, inhaling all the smoke he can in the meantime, his body a mix of relaxed and tense all at once.

When the call goes to voicemail Zayn can literally feel his chest hurting. He calls Liam right after, hoping that he will pick up, hoping that he will listen to Zayn one last time, but it's all in vain. They're probably together, Zayn thinks, enjoying their rare free time. Without him.

Thinking about it makes Zayn feel even worse, so he just turns the tv off and jumps from the couch, walking to his bedroom in a much slower pace, enjoying every inch of his apartment. He loved the place from the moment he visited it for the first time, and there Zayn built a home for himself over the years. Thinking about leaving the place forever it's like feeling lost.

Zayn walks into his bedroom with his mind taken by fear, and also a crushing amount of sadness on his belly. He walks towards his closet and reaches up for some pajama bottoms but something catches his attention instead. His hands move without his fully consent and before he knows he's reaching for the boxes on the upper shelves, filled with Louis' related things. He takes them out one by one, getting his closet rid of them until they're all scattered on his bedroom floor.

A while ago the content of these boxes could be considered meaningless research, work related things even. But now they're just evidence, an endless pile of evidence connecting Zayn to Louis. He pulls the first box open and fishes out a random article about Louis killing sprees, sort of wanting to look at them one last time. Instead he just takes the boxes on his arms again, but this time he takes them out of his apartment, getting every single one of them to the alley down the street and shoving them inside of a big dumpster, his heart slightly breaking as everything he collected through the years, from papers to the tapes he recorded during their sessions, gets mixed with trash.

Once he has managed to fit everything into the dumpster he just leans back against the brick wall, taking a deep breath after so much manual work. He feels slightly out of breath, his lungs contracting inside him, but it's not just from carrying countless boxes down three flights of stairs; there's an anxiousness growing inside of him, the fear of the unknown taking over his body as the hours go by and the morning approaches. He knows that his life will change completely on the next day, the only thing he doesn't know is how things will go.

He lights up a cigarette and places it on his lips, taking a long drag. The smoke does nothing to calm his nerves, clouding his lungs instead making him cough hoarsely. The taste of nicotine is heavy on his tongue, and he doesn't think twice before throwing the cigarette inside of the dumpster as well, watching at how the smaller spark is enough to set everything on fire, destroying every single thing related to Louis.

It takes a while for the fire to go down, but Zayn stays there until everything is reduced to ashes. That will be his life after tomorrow; nothing but ashes.

 

\---

 

When Zayn arrives at the Asylum on the next day he's a complete train wreck; he didn't sleep well through the night so his head is buzzing with fatigue, and he can't stop coughing from how much he’d smoke in the past twenty-four hours. His body buzzes with anticipation, and he avoids looking at his colleagues in the eyes as he walks to his office, feeling like he betrayed them all.

The first thing he notices when he steps in his office is the box waiting for him, similar to the pie bomb Louis left for him last time. He walks towards his table quickly, grabbing the box on his hands and unwraps the ribbon quickly, his fingers trembling as he shoves the lid away.

For a delirious moment Zayn thinks Louis sent him someone's head inside a box, and a scream gets trapped on his throat as he keeps staring inside. His nerves relax a little bit when he realizes is just a simple gas mask, black and plain, along with another note from Louis.

_Lock the door, put this on and wait until I come for you._

"Shit, Louis, what are you going to do?" Zayn mumbles to himself, grabbing the mask on his trembling hands and putting it on. It's a tight fit, and it's kind of hard to breathe with that thing on his face, but he doesn't dare to take it off; he has no idea what Louis has planned for his breakout, but knowing him he knows that it must be something brutal, at least.

He locks the door behind him and seats behind his desk, the pale sun coming from behind him and doing nothing to make him feel better. He lets a heavy sigh out, the sound coming ragged through the mask.

And so he waits.

 

\---

 

As the hours go by Zayn only grows more and more restless; he has never been good at waiting, but sitting there when he knows something is about to happen just drives him insane. He tries to soothe the anxiousness growing inside of him by getting his mind busy, but soon he finds out he can't read wearing that mask and he's too scared to take it off, so he decides to just watch the sky through his window as time goes by slowly.

He receives a few knocks on his door through the day, probably his colleagues, but he never answers them. Each knock rips a surprised sound from within him, and all he does is stay silent until they walk away defeated.

It gives him a sense of relief when the sun starts to go down, drawing everything into darkness. Zayn keeps his eyes on the window until it becomes too dark to see something, leaving him alone with the incessant sound of the clock ticking, the pointers moving almost like in slow motion.

Everything is so quiet that Zayn almost falls from his chair when he hears a loud _bang_ noise coming from outside, the impact strong enough to shake the walls of his office.

His body starts to buzz with adrenaline again when people start to scream outside, the heavy thump of footsteps echoing through the walls as they start to run around. The scream gets louder when what seems to be a bomb explodes somewhere in the Asylum, making the floor shake under Zayn's feet.

The variety of sounds coming from outside makes Zayn wonder what's really going on out there; he can hear some people screaming desperately for their lives while others cough like they're suffocating and others laugh like they've been told the most hilarious joke. The pleas of help are almost enough to make Zayn open the door and help all those people, but instead he stays frozen on the spot waiting for Louis.

It feels like ages before he hears someone banging at the door, the sudden sound making his heart jump to his throat.

"Zayn? It’s me, open up!" Louis shouts, banging on the door again.

Zayn hurries to unlock the door, his fingers shaking like crazy when he finally opens it and finds Louis standing there, wearing black from head to toe and white and black paint all over his face. His hair is still brown, though, but he still looks breathtaking and Zayn doesn't hold himself from wrapping his arms around him tightly, burying his face on Louis' neck as much as the mask allows him.

"God, I was starting to get worried," Zayn mumbles, almost sure that he won't be heard over the sounds of screams and sirens coming from everywhere.

"I told you to trust me," Louis says, rubbing his hands up and down Zayn's back. "But I have to hurry before the cops catch me."

"O-Okay," Zayn nods, untangling himself from Louis.

Louis grabs one of Zayn's and gives him a mischievous grin. "Come on, we have to go."

He doesn't wait for an answer before running down the hall with Zayn hot on his heels, both of them never letting go from each other. It's just then that Zayn realizes the cloud of smoke taking over the corridors, making everything in front of him look foggy. He also notices the bodies scattered all over the floor, and he tries to not step on them as Louis pulls him.

"Are they dead?" Zayn asks, trying to get a close look on them through the cloud of smoke. Their faces are pale and lifeless, their mouths stretching all the way to their ears in sick grins. They look like a poor copy of Louis, but without the spark of life on their features.

"Some of them," Louis says casually, like this is a normal occurrence on his life. "We don't have time for that now, Zayn."

There's no screams or steps echoing from afar anymore, and that sets a reassuring feeling on Zayn's chest as they keep running through the corridors of the Arkham Asylum, now just the sirens ringing above them. Louis walks like he knows exactly where he's going, and soon they reach a wall that has been completely destroyed, a huge hole right in the middle of it.

"Hey mate, took ya long enough," a voice in a thick accent comes from the shadows, and Zayn's head snaps to the side to find Niall stepping towards them, the girl called Poison Ivy following closely.

"Had to fetch Zayn before we leave," Louis explains, placing his hand on Zayn's shoulder. "Are we ready?"

"Yup, they sent us a submarine and we have less than five minutes to get the hell out of here," Niall says, and Zayn almost gasps because they're running away in a fucking submarine.

"Okay, just give me a sec," Louis says, his grip on Zayn's shoulder tightening. "I need to have a word with Zayn here."

Niall nods at him before helping Poison to go through the hole, jumping right after her in a hurry. Louis turns to look at Zayn once they’re finally gone, looking at him with a tiny smile playing on his lips.

"Zayn," he says, slipping his hands from Zayn's shoulders through his arms until they reach his hands, intertwining their fingers together. "I can't explain how grateful I am for you helping me to escape from this place."

"You don't have to thank me," Zayn says, brushing his fingers over the knuckles of Louis' hands. "But you do have to go now, before they catch you."

"I know, I just-" he stops pointedly, chuckling under his breath and looking at his own feet for a moment. The clock is still ticking in Zayn's head, and he knows that he doesn't have much time left but he doesn't seem to care. He looks up with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, trying to hide the huge grin forming on his face.

"Would you like to come with me?"

The words have an instant effect on Zayn. He chokes on nothing behind the mask, his sweaty hands enveloping around Louis' wrists and pulling him into another hug. The warmth that Louis provides, combined with the perspective of not being left behind, makes him laugh dumbly as he holds Louis' closer to his chest.

"Are you serious?"

"Never been more serious in my whole life," Louis says against his neck, his warm breath sending shivers down Zayn's spine. "Run away with me, Zayn."

"Fuck, of course I will," Zayn exclaims, lifting Louis from the floor and making him yelp with surprise.

He wants to kiss Louis right now. He wants it so badly he can feel his lips aching from desire, his insides twisting into knots from how desperate he is for the feeling of Louis' lips against his own. It seems that Louis is feeling the same thing though, because next thing he knows the man is playing with the strings keeping the mask tied around his head, his eyes never leaving Zayn.

"I'm going to take it off now, okay?" Louis asks, his fingertips brushing against Zayn's hair as he unties the knots. "You don't have to worry."

Before Zayn even considers answering the mask is already falling to the ground, allowing the cold breeze of the night to brush against his warm skin. The smoke from earlier has dissipated by now, but his nose still scrunches at the tiny burnt smell mixed with sulfur hanging in the air.

He entirely forgets the smell when he feels Louis' hands cupping his cheeks, making him purr under the gesture. Zayn lifts his own hands to mimic Louis', cupping his cheeks on his much larger hands before leaning in, connecting their lips in a chaste kiss.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Louis whispers, flashing a mischievous grin at Zayn, earning a tiny nod in response.

Zayn helps Louis jump through the hole on the wall, lifting him with both hands on his hips and almost getting a face full of Louis' ass. He tries to shove the inappropriate thoughts away for now, watching Louis slip through the hole before jumping out himself. He's getting ready to jump when he hears quickly footsteps behind him, and he turns around to find a single silhouette running through the dark hallway, large footsteps echoing in the now lifeless building.

It doesn't take much for Zayn to recognize Liam, standing there in his Batman suit. His face is completely hidden by darkness, but Zayn can almost see his eyes shining at him through the holes of his mask.

"What are you doing, Zayn?" Liam asks, taking a hesitant step towards him.

As much as Zayn would love to answer that question, the truth is he doesn't know how. Ever since he decided to help Louis he hasn’t thought about how he would explain the whole situation to his friends, not even once. He keeps staring at Liam as he scans his brain after a possible explanation, but instead he comes up with a question he's been asking himself since he saw the first dead body lying on the floor as they ran through the corridors of the Asylum.

"Is Harry okay?"

The question must come out of the blue for Liam because he stays quiet for a bit, standing in front of Zayn like a statue. "Yeah, I managed to rescue him."

"That's good," Zayn says. If something had happened to Harry or Liam he would probably take the guilt with him to his grave. "I have to go now."

"Zayn-"

"Don't worry about me, I’ll be okay."

It's hard to keep his emotions in check, and Zayn can already feel the tears burning his eyes. It's like he's ripping a piece of his heart and giving it to Liam, his best friend for years who he's now leaving behind for good. It's an indescribable pain, and Zayn is sure he never felt something like this in his own life.

There are more words trapped on his throat but he can't find himself to spit them out. He just gives Liam a tiny smile, taking a last look at his friends before jumping through the hole, landing on the damp grass covering the outside part of the Asylum. Louis is waiting for him there, biting at his own nails and looking around nervously.

"Finally," he almost shouts when Zayn lands by his side. "Are you ready?"

Zayn rubs his palm against his own cheeks, getting rid of the few tears that managed to escape from his eyes before grabbing Louis' hand. "Ready."

They both smile dumbly at each other before running away together, Louis leading the way to where the submarine is waiting for them. Zayn takes a last glance at the building from over his shoulder, feeling something burn inside of him when he notices the big bat sign shining in the sky above them. He knows there's no turning back now, and he feels more tears prickling on his eyes as they runs through the dark night, thinking about everything he's leaving behind.

 

\---

 

The submarine moves slower than Zayn expected, and he sits nervously at one corner with Louis by his side as the thing navigates through the waters. The place is small and dark, with only tiny red lights shining from above, and Zayn can't see anything but darkness when he lifts his eyes to the small round windows of the submarine. It sets a claustrophobic feeling on his chest, and he shuts his eyes tightly to prevent his nausea from growing further, praying that the trip will end soon.

Louis has an arm wrapped around his shoulders, somehow anchoring Zayn onto sanity. Their bodies are flush together, and the hair at the back of Zayn's neck rises when he feels Louis' lips ghosting against his ear, his warm breath making Zayn's eyes pop open instantly.

"Are you okay?" Louis finally asks.

"Fine," Zayn whispers, low enough for only Louis to hear; he doesn't want the others to think that he's just a weak doctor in distress. "Where are we going?"

Louis rubs his shoulder lightly, leaning his forehead against the side of Zayn's head. "To my secret hideaway. We will be safe there."

"We could go to my apartment if you want," Zayn suggests with a little bit of hope in his voice.

"That will be the first place they will look when they realize you're missing," Louis says, squeezing his shoulder. "You will be fine Zayn, don't worry."

That's easier said than done, Zayn thinks, but he still gives Louis a tiny nod before shutting his eyes tightly again, focusing on Louis' touches instead on the way his stomach is twisting and turning into knots.

Luckily for him they don't have to wait much longer, and before he knows the submarine moves upwards abruptly, jolting everyone forward. Louis has a death grip on Zayn's shoulders, preventing him from falling face-first on the metallic ground, but now there's moonlight peeking from the windows, the reflection of the water outside making the submarine look phantasmagoric.

Niall comes from the little cabin in the front, where he's been conducting the submarine this whole time. "We're here, folks," he says cheerfully, marching to the corner where Poison has been sleeping, poking on her shoulder lightly.

"Good," Louis says, standing in a jump and giving his hand for Zayn to take. "Let's get going."

The first thing Zayn notices when he finally climbs the ladder out of the submarine is the enormous building in front of him; it's tall and surrounded by water, and it looks kind of abandoned with broken windows and graffiti covering every inch of wall his eyes can reach. He can feel his palm sweating against Louis' while they walk towards the place, and he gulps when Niall opens the door with a loud crack, making some birds fly away with a cacophony of unpleasant noises.

"Welcome to your new home, Zayn," Louis says with a smirk on his face.

They step into a huge hall and it baffles Zayn how clean the place looks. There's a big staircase right in front of them and candlesticks everywhere, as well as a chandelier hanging above them, with candles illuminating the whole place. There are pipes showing here and there though, and some spots of the walls are covered with graffiti too, but the place still looks nice.

"Nice, huh?" Louis says, bumping his shoulder against Zayn's.

"Sick," Zayn murmurs, turning to Louis with a huge smile on his face. "What is this place?"

"It used to be a factory but I had some people to give it an extreme makeover," he says, giving a good look at the place himself. "They have been taking care of it for me."

They walk further into the place until they reach what was probably supposed to be the living room, and Zayn smiles at how random the furniture look together, the pieces not matching at all. The place looks weird, but at the same time really unique and so _Louis_ that Zayn can't hold back the smile growing on his face.

Poison walks towards one of the countless couches in the room and falls face down without ceremony. Niall, on the other hand, walks towards the not-so-flat tv and grabs the remote, turning it on a random program.

"I think I'm going to take a shower," Louis says, turning to look at Zayn. "You coming?"

The question hits Zayn out of nowhere but he still nods quickly, feeling his cheeks burning as he does so. "Y-Yes, I am."

"Good," Louis smirks, giving him an almost imperceptive wink before turning to Niall. "I believe you can get rid of the submarine for me, right Niall?"

"Aye, captain," Niall says from the couch he's sitting on, doing a salute without taking his eyes from the tv.

"Perfect, and tell Poison to ask the whole gang to come by tomorrow," Louis orders, already walking out of the room with Zayn on his tail.

The hardwood floor cracks under them as they walk up the stairs and Zayn can't stop his eyes from flying to every single thing he sees in front of him. The place is absolutely enormous, with hallways filled by doors and weird paintings covering the walls, some of them of Louis' himself representing another paintings like _La Liberté guidant le peuple_ with him in the center instead of the woman carrying the flag and even one of him in the middle of _L'Ultima Cena,_ which makes Zayn chuckle under his breath.

They climb up another flight of stairs before Louis opens the door of the room he was probably looking for. The candles are not lit in this one, but the moonlight peeking through the broken window is enough to illuminate the place. There's a huge bed in the middle of the room, covered in black plain sheets, and the black walls are completely covered in graffiti, saying things like _Long live the Joker!_ and creepy smiley faces.

"Cozy," Zayn says, walking forward to rub his hand against the soft sheets on the bed.

"You get used to it," Louis shrugs. "But right now I really need a shower, you can join me if you want."

Zayn feels a rush of excitement concentrate on his lower areas, turning around immediately to face Louis, who's looking at him with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. "That would be nice, yeah."

"C'mon, then."

There's a door by their left that leads to a small bathroom, and Zayn is amazed to find out that electricity works in that specific room when Louis flicks the switch, the bright yellow light making his eyes hurt slightly.

They both undress in silent next to each other, but Zayn never takes his eyes away from Louis as he takes his clothes off piece by piece, unveiling soft tanned skin and the tattoos Zayn has been dying to see. He can feel Louis' gaze burning on his own body too, but he's too busy shamelessly staring at Louis' perk bum to feel embarrassed about his appearance.

When they step under the spray Zayn realizes that Louis' face is still covered in white and black paint, and he watches intently as the water washes everything way, revealing Louis' clean face once again. It's just then that Zayn realizes how tired Louis looks, with heavy bags under his eyes and crinkles by his eyes. That's enough reason for Zayn to grab the sponge hanging from one of the pipes and rubbing it against Louis' skin, softly in the spots covered in scars from his recent shock therapy, and feeling a sensation of accomplishment when Louis leans his back against his chest, with eyes closed as he enjoys the warm water falling on their skin.

Zayn shuts off the water when it starts to get cold, and they both walk out of the shower dripping wet. There are no towels in sight, so he starts to open the cabinets in search for something he can use to dry them, and when he finally finds a worn-out towel he turns around to realize that Louis is gone already.

"Louis?" Zayn calls, drying himself off as quickly as possible before walking out of the bathroom, the towel hanging loosely around his hips.

The sight of Louis standing by the bed, stark naked, makes him inhale sharply, his fingers aching to just touch him. The moonlight contrasts his small frame beautifully, the remaining droplets scattered on his skin looking like tiny diamonds. And his _ass_ , fuck, Zayn can't take his eyes away from his ass, round and plump and so soft-looking.

He walks towards him until his chest is pressed against his back, placing both hands on Louis' waist and leaning forward to kiss the back of his neck. "You're still wet," he whispers, rubbing his thumb against Louis' hipbones.

"Then do something," Louis says, resting his head against Zayn's shoulder.

That rips a laugh from Zayn's throat, muffled by how his mouth is pressed against Louis' skin. He has full access to Louis' neck now, and he scatters soft kisses all over it as he unties the towel from his waist and rubs it over Louis' damp skin, allowing his half hard cock to press against Louis' ass.

"Do you want to take a nap?" Zayn asks, nosing at Louis' hair. "You should rest, sleep on a nice bed for a change."

Louis' chuckles at that, turning around as much as he can with Zayn's arms wrapped around him. His hands that were previously lying on Louis’ tummy are now pressed against his lower back and he doesn't think twice before sliding them to his ass, taking a nice handful and squeezing softly.

"No sleeping," Louis murmurs. He pulls Zayn closer and kisses him greedily, not wasting time with soft and sweet this time. Their mouths open to allow their tongues to lap together, covering their lips with spit quickly, and their teeth chatter a little but they don't pay attention to it, instead moaning inside each other's mouths.

Louis jumps up into Zayn's arms and wraps his legs around his waist and arms around his neck as they still kiss, making Zayn hold at the back of his back for leverage. "You're sleeping here," Louis whispers against his lips, and Zayn immediately carries him over to the bed, carefully putting him down.

"Of course I'm sleeping here," Zayn says, his body pressing Louis' against the soft mattress.

"Good," Louis mumbles, pulling Zayn down for another kiss. Their lips move freely against each other, their hands doing the same thing exploring each other's bodies. Zayn is lying between Louis' parted thighs, and he slips his hand between them easily, wrapping his fingers around Louis' cock, stroking him with ease. It's been so long since he last touched someone like this, which makes him feel proud when Louis arches his back under him, gasping out loud.

"Zayn," he moans, thrusting his hips up into his hand.

"Hmm, we should do something about this yeah?" Zayn murmurs in his ear, feeling his own cock growing to full hardness as he keeps stroking Louis slowly.

He keeps staring down at Louis, watching how his single hand is enough to take this dangerous and deadly villain apart, admiring how his thin lips are parted in a silent moan and his cheeks are flushed with red. Zayn doesn't stop even when he feels his fingers getting soaked with precome, too mesmerized by the sight of an aroused Louis.

It's only when Louis’ cock starts to pulse under his palm that he decides to stop, smirking down at him. He leans down and slips his tongue inside of his mouth filthy before he heaves himself up off of the bed and trips over himself to take a hand on his discarded pants, searching for the condom and the packet of lube that he keeps on his wallet.

"I see you're always ready for it," Louis comments from the bed when he sees Zayn walking back, condom and lube at hand.

"Better safe than sorry," Zayn grins, shutting them both up by kissing Louis hard. He doesn't let go of Louis as he lubes his fingers up, getting them slick and ready. Louis spreads his legs under him, offering himself and shuddering when Zayn starts to tease him with the bad of his thumb, his entrance begging for him to get inside.

"I bet you're really tight," Zayn says, licking Louis' bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. "How long has it been for you?"

Louis swallows hard, the blush on his cheeks getting even darker. "Long enough."

"Lucky me," Zayn whispers, all while slipping his finger inside Louis. The man lets out a loud moan, quickly covered by Zayn's lips, and he spreads his legs even more as Zayn fingers him open with gentle movements. Louis had plenty of rough, worth of an entire lifetime, Zayn thinks, and he deserves gentle at least for now.

He keeps moving his fingers slowly, almost too slow, but Louis doesn't seem to care or have the energy to beg him to give him more, and that's another side of Louis Zayn enjoys so much, silent but desperate. He keeps going until he has three fingers inside of him, fucking him with them in a steady pace and Louis rolls his hips back against him, clenching around them deliciously just to show Zayn how good it will be when his cock is finally inside.

"Are you ready?" Zayn asks, poking at Louis' prostate softly.

"Fuck," Louis breathes heavily, nodding quickly with his eyes shut tightly.

Zayn plants a kiss on his forehead before he grabs the condom and rolls it on, giving himself a few strokes and lubing himself up. He grabs Louis at the back of his knees, lifting his legs just enough to expose his hole to him, and there's something about how Louis looks so open and ready for him that makes his chest swell with a mix of feelings. He positions himself and when he slides inside him he feels overwhelmed, immediately falling forward and panting against Louis' neck as he feels his cock being squeezed in the most amazing way.

"Fucking hell," he murmurs, biting down Louis' neck as he pushes himself further inside.

The way his cock stretches Louis' entrance rips a loud moan from his throat, fingers clawing at Zayn's back. "Zayn," he whispers, burying his nails on his skin.

Zayn lifts himself to look down at Louis, staring right into his blue eyes, big and fond. They start moving together in synchrony, and it's easier than Zayn ever thought it would be with Louis adjusting to Zayn's size easily, the slow thrusts and the perfect angle making it even more enjoyable for him as his prostates gets slammed over and over.

"You look so good like this, Louis," Zayn murmurs, giving a particularly hard thrust, making Louis whimper. “So cute, my little puddin’.”

Their bodies fit together like they were designed for each other, and they move together so smoothly and it's just perfect. Zayn knows Louis is close from his sloppy movements and the way his chest is rising erratically, and he leans down to kiss him hungrily, his lips moving from his mouth to his neck and collarbones, adding to Louis' pleasure.

"I'm going to-" Louis whimpers, and Zayn fucks into him harder, stabbing his prostate with his cock over and over, desperately to see him come.

It only takes a few more thrusts and a particularly hard bite on his neck for Louis to clench impossibly tight around him, letting a loud whimper and a sob as his orgasm takes over him, causing his body to shake as he comes between their bodies, splashing come everywhere.

"Shit," he mumbles, his hand immediately falling from where they were taking a hold on Zayn's back.

Zayn isn't far behind after that, his thrusts getting erratic as he keeps moving in and out of Louis' tight hole. His muscles are aching a little, but he tries to focus on the warm feeling squirming in the bottom of his belly. He buries himself inside Louis as deeply as he can and that's when he comes, cock pulsating inside of him and body going limp, letting himself collapse on top of Louis for a few seconds as his orgasm washes over him.

They stay like that until their breathing becomes normal again. Zayn rolls off Louis and gets rid of the condom, rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes because apparently they got filled with tears at some point after his orgasm. He feels Louis rubbing what must be the blanket on his stomach and limp cock, wiping the worst of the come off the both of them before he settles in Zayn's arms again, placing his head in the crock of Zayn's neck.

"Now I need to sleep," Louis says, his mouth tickling Zayn softly and making him chuckle under his breath.

"Fucked you good, didn't I?" Zayn asks, and Louis just nods with his eyes already closed, wrapping his arms around Zayn's waist.

Zayn keeps trailing his finger over Louis' spine until he falls asleep, his own eyes falling shut right after, finding comfort in the way their limbs are twisted together, and the last thing he acknowledges is how warm Louis' body feels against his own before sleep takes over him.

It's been a long day, after all.

 

\---

 

Zayn wakes up on the next morning to the sound of waves coming from afar, the pale sunlight burning his eyelids. He opens his eyes slowly, taking a stop to yawn as he rubs his eyes and look around, the rays of sun bathing their naked bodies.

He will have to get curtains for that window immediately.

The thought of rolling to the side and going back to sleep sounds really tempting, but he decides against it, sitting up and stretching his limbs. His brain is still slightly fuzzy from sleep, and he takes a while to remind where he is and what happened last night. A lazy smile appears on his face when his head get filled with images of Louis naked under him, making soft noises with their bodies joined in the most intimate way.

He can't remember the last time he woke up next to someone, though, but it's never been like this. He studies Louis' relaxed features wearily; he looks absolutely angelic, and that's ultimate bullshit because Zayn knows that Louis is everything but angelic. He actually looks pretty cute, with his lips parted open with the slightest amount of drool and his hair pointing everywhere, the sunlight making it look almost golden. Zayn can't find himself to rip his eyes from his face, and he inches closer to him, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

Getting up is harder than he expected, but he's not as tired as he was yesterday. In fact his body feels well rested and sated after having amazing sex with Louis, so he doesn't complain. He takes a few steps toward the window, looking outside through the broken glass; there's a lot of water around them, and Zayn has no idea about their whereabouts but he knows they're far far away from the city, being able to see just the silhouettes of the buildings from afar.

"Zayn?"

The sound of Louis' voice snaps him out of his thoughts, and he turns around to see him sitting up, naked body curled up and hair falling over his eyes. He looks beautiful.

"Hey there," Zayn says, leaning against the wall. He's still naked, and he would feel self-conscious about the way his cock hangs limp between his legs if this was a normal situation, but there's nothing normal about the two of them.

Louis gets up from the bed and marches towards him, getting on his tiptoes and planting a soft kiss on his lip, both of them ignoring their morning breath. Louis has a weird expression when he pulls back, looking at Zayn with a raised eyebrow.

"What's wrong, Zayn?" he asks, rubbing Zayn's arms softly.

"Nothing."

His tone isn't enough to convince anyone, and by the look on Louis' face he is definitely not convinced. "Zayn."

"Okay, I was just thinking too much," he shrugs, looking at his own bare feet.

"About what?"

It's of no use keeping this from Louis, so he just takes a deep breath and looks inside his eyes, diving in that blue tormentous sea. "Now that I'm here with you I feel like I should be out there when you are too, you know? I don't want to sit around while you do things, I want to be with you. _Fight_ with you."

"Really?" Louis asks, his eyes lighting up with joy.

"Yeah, I want to help," Zayn says, grabbing Louis hands. "We would make a great team, you said it yourself."

"That's true," Louis says, biting his bottom lip. "Well, I can teach you to fight if you want. To kill, even."

Zayn's grimaces at that, making Louis throw his head back with laughter. He kind of missed this side of Louis.

"Baby steps," Zayn says in between giggles.

"Yeah, baby steps," Louis agrees, a grin full of teeth on his face. "But if you want to be out there with me you need to have a disguise to keep people from finding out who you are."

"I thought about it as well," Zayn says, running his fingers through his hair. "I think I should get rid of it. My hair, I mean."

This time Louis is the one who seems surprised, his mouth hanging open with shock. "Are you sure? When I said I like your hair I really meant it, you know?"

"I know, but I'm sure people wouldn't recognize me without it," Zayn shrugs, and he does like his hair too but it's not like he will die without it.

Louis seems to consider the idea for a while, patting his feet against the hardwood floor as he keeps examining Zayn's hair. "Well, I can take care of it."

"You?" Zayn snorts, slapping his hand over his mouth when he sees the mockery offended expression on Zayn's face.

"Sit down," Louis orders, turning his back to him. "And I’ll be right back."

Zayn keeps staring at his back as he walks away, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth when he realizes he's been inside of that amazing ass just hours ago, before sitting at the edge of bed. He can hear Louis knocking drawers to the ground inside the bathroom, probably roaming through their contents as he searches for something in particular, and he seems really pleased with himself when he appears at the doorstep holding a long pair of scissors, a huge smirk playing on his lips.

Zayn gulps at the sight, his wide eyes locked on Louis as he approaches him. "Are you going to cut my hair?"

"Hm," Louis nods, standing behind him and scratching softly at Zayn's scalp. "Can I?"

"Y-Yeah," Zayn says, relaxing his muscles the best he can.

The feeling of Louis' lips against his ear makes him jump slightly, earning a soft chuckle from him. "Stay still and I promise I will blow you after."

His cock twitch at the proposal, and he gets so lost on the thought of Louis' lips wrapped around him he doesn't notice when he moves the scissor forward, taking a big wisp of hair out in one go.

"Shit," Zayn mutters under his breath as he watches his hair fall around him.

"Don't worry, you will still look very handsome after this," Louis says with an amused tone on his voice as he keeps cutting Zayn's hair off. "Maybe you should even dye your hair."

"That would be nice," Zayn says, turning his head around to look at Louis with a mischievous grin. "What do you think about green?"

Louis laughs down at him, a genuine laugh that get his eyes crinkled at the corners, and the huge smile remains on his face as he nods cheerfully.

"Great choice, love."

 

\---

 

_(A few months later.)_

Something about this night is different from the others, but Zayn can't pinpoint what it is. The moon is still shining bright on the sky, the stars by her side as usual, and the sky is still painted in pitch black. But the cold wind coming from outside carries something, like a message.

He's sure this night will be unforgettable.

The mirror in front of him shows a version of himself he came to grow used to through the past months. He's still portraying a buzz cut, painted in an electric shade of green, and his face is completely covered in white paint, with huge black circles around his eyes. He looks like a panda, a cool panda.

Things have been different since he ran away with Louis on that night months ago; the papers had said he died in the Arkham Asylum Incident, as well as countless other doctors. At first he had been miserable thinking about how his friends (except Liam and maybe Harry) would think he was gone forever. The thought about them making a funeral for him was enough to make him sick, and that had been a hard pill for him to swallow at the beginning.

But he didn't have time to mourn himself because Louis decided to start his training sessions right away; he taught Zayn how to fight with and without weapons such as knives, baseball bats and crowbars. He tried to teach him how to use guns but Zayn wasn't too fond of them, so they decided to drop it.

Zayn also grew really close to Niall, who became one of his best mates. When Louis was too occupied with other stuff Niall would be the one responsible for training him. He was much more chilled than Louis, but a skilled fighter nonetheless, and unlike Louis he didn't think twice before kicking Zayn’s ass.

He takes his attention away from the mirror when the door behind him slams open, a hurried Louis stepping inside. He's wearing a bright purple jacket, hands covered by leather gloves and his face painted as well. It took a lot of begging for Zayn to convince him to keep his hair brown, which he complied after Zayn spent thirty minutes just eating him out.

That's another thing Zayn’s really proud of; the sex. Sex with Louis was always amazing, and unlike their first time, crazy. Louis was always coming up with new things for them to try, and really how could Zayn say no to the idea of Louis on his fours completely tied up and blindfolded, exposing himself for Zayn in the most dirty way?

He couldn't.

"Are you ready?" Louis asks him, checking his own hair in the mirror.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Zayn nods, flashing him a huge grin.

"I'm so proud of you," Louis says, standing behind of him and placing both hands on Zayn's shoulder, looking at their reflection. "Your first mission, Zayn. That's huge."

"Shut up, thinking about it makes me nervous," Zayn laughs, wanting to hide his face behind his hands but at the same time afraid of ruining his makeup.

Louis wraps his arms around his shoulders and leans forward until his mouth is ghosting against Zayn's ear. "You didn't sound so nervous yesterday when you were coming inside of me."

"Shut up," Zayn mumbles, grinning at their reflection on the mirror.

One of his favorite things about Louis is this soft side of him, this nice side that only exists for Zayn. Outside the bedroom Louis turns into Joker, the sadist killer who likes to mock everything and everyone and doesn't show any kind of emotion. But when they're alone Louis is just Louis, genuine and bare just for him; Zayn has always been fascinated by the manyac, fierce and insane side of Louis, but this Louis, this soft, small and secret Louis is way more fascinating.

"C'mon, get up," Louis says, patting him on the shoulder. "Let me take a look at you."

He steps back allowing Zayn to get up from the chair he's currently sitting on, his eyes scanning his frame from head to toe. Zayn is wearing a black leather jacket with spikes everywhere, a ripped white shirt underneath that shows part of his hipbones and happy trail. He's also wearing tight black jeans ripped everywhere, with combat boots on his feet.

"You look like a proper rebel," Louis says with a smirk, closing the gap between them and giving him a quick peck on the lips.

"Thanks," Zayn says, wrapping his arms around Louis' waist. "Shall we go? I'm sure the gang is waiting for us."

"Let's take a selfie first," Louis whispers, making Zayn throw his head back with laughter as Louis fishes his phone from his back pocket.

Louis points the camera at them and they both stick their tongues out, their faces so close their tongues literally touch in a way most people would find disgusting. Louis' tongue feels warm pressed against his, and Zayn lets some kind of open-mouthed laugh out before he snaps the picture, joining their mouths together in a wet sloppy kiss right after.

"Disgusting," Louis giggles, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth.

"Can I choose the caption?" Zayn asks, motioning to Louis cellphone.

Louis rolls his eyes fondly, shoving his cellphone at him. "Do it quickly."

He blows him a kiss before grabbing the cellphone, his smile growing even further as he sees how cute they look in that picture. He chooses a filter carefully, his tongue poking out in concentration as he taps at the keyboard, posting it on instagram before passing the phone back to Louis.

"Done."

Louis looks down at the screen and snorts loudly, looking at him with sparkling eyes. "Partners in crime?"

"You like it?” Zayn asks, grabbing his baseball bat from the bed.

"I do," Louis says, holding his hand out for Zayn to take. "Partners in crime forever, right?"

Something on his voice sounds so sincere, like he needs Zayn to reassure him that they will be by each other's side until death takes them apart. And Zayn is quickly to join their hands together, slipping his other arm over Louis' shoulder and pulling him closer, planting a soft kiss at the top of his head.

"Always."


End file.
